Feel my Fangs
by snufkin
Summary: Harry has been bitten by a vampire. Unaware of his transformation and driven by blood lust, Harry attacks the Dursleys. Later, Harry causes mayhem in the vampire community. Vampires aren't supposed to have magic, you see. Please ignore A.N in CH10.
1. Symptoms

Feel my Fangs

Chapter One – Symptoms

Harry did not know when he was bitten or who had bitten him. In fact, Harry didn't even know he had been bitten. It was a gradual change, one that could go unnoticed for weeks on end.

He had been feeling strange for the better part of a week before his first symptoms manifested themselves.

Harry first developed an acute sensitivity to sunlight. His skin, translucent to the point of freakishness, burned atrociously fast and often. Harry stopped going outside during the day.

The second change occurred overnight. He woke up one cloudy morning and felt decidedly _healthy_. He flexed his arms and was surprised to find them muscled and taut. He was still a skinny rod, but his body felt strong and flexible. Harry rationalized that he must have had a growth spurt.

When Harry's eyesight cleared, he began to feel wary of the changes. Eyesight wasn't supposed to get better with time. Something was happening to him and Harry did not have the slightest beginning of a clue. Was Dumbledore keeping something about him from him again? Harry paced and paced in the house's smallest bedroom.

The day Harry went down for breakfast in the Dursley house and discovered that the three Dursleys' necks looked more appetizing than his eggs and bacon, Harry was sure that something was profoundly wrong with him. Harry was hungry, but not for food.

It was while watching Vernon savor medium-cooked steak that Harry realized what he was lusting for. As he watched the red liquid wet Vernon's tongue and slither down the fat man's dumpy throat, Harry knew exactly what his need was. Harry was wanting blood. Harry stayed in his smallest bedroom from then on.

When his hunger began to feel unmanageable, Harry let Hedwig go, fearing he'd sink his teeth in her in a moment of weakness.

It was harder to get the Dursley's to leave the house. And Harry knew that if he denied himself blood any longer, he would lose what remaining consciousness he had and instinctively attack whatever warm-blooded mammal he met.

Harry tried to control himself. He prepared to leave the Dursley house. But by then, it was too late.

Four weeks after he had been bitten—though he did not know that himself—Harry Potter's hunger took precedence over his reason, over his morals and over his consciousness. Driven by blood lust, the vampire attacked the three Dursleys. In the dead of the night and behind their back. He enjoyed every drop of red liquid and sucked them dry.

…………………………………

Harry stood over the three corpses. Vernon had been the first to die and Petunia the second. Dudley had been dessert, his life-liquid, thick and sweet.

Harry was not sorry to see them dead. But he was sorry that he had not been able to control his instincts. The difference between the human and the animal is thin. It was all a matter of control. Either the mind is in control or the instincts are in control. Harry had crossed that thin line but he did not want to be an animal.

Next time, he would not wait until the last minute to feed; he had learned better. And yes, there would be a next time. Harry knew it deep down.

He passed the tip of his tongue over the flakes of dried blood on his lower lip. He would have to dispose of the bodies.

Harry took his wand, his invisibility cloak and his broom.

He transfigured the three bodies into three bones and threw them over the fence. The neighbor's dog was only too happy to hide them with his stash of other bones.

Wearing his invisibility cloak, Harry threw a leg over his firebolt and flew off into the night, minutes before the letter from the office of improper use of magic reached the Dursley house.


	2. Vampire Settlement

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Two – Vampire Settlement

The fourth person to become intimate with Harry Potter's newfound fangs was Lucius Malfoy.

By then, Harry had no doubt he'd been turned and not just merely bitten. Being bitten didn't necessarily mean that a normal would be turned. An actual exchange of blood between vampire and human was necessary for the human to be turned. Harry desperately wanted to know who had done him in and, especially, why he didn't remember being bitten.

"Tell me, Lucius, about the plot on Harry Potter's life," he hissed in the pureblood's ear.

Lucius struggled but his eyelids drooped and his muscles refused to respond. The extremities of his body felt numb. "I-I don't know, I haven't heard of anything."

"You lie, my dear Lucius," Harry savagely sunk his teeth deeper and felt the skin break around the wound.

Lucius' neck ached a thousand deaths. He wimpered, "I swear! I swear! The Dark Lord has been busy dealing with the werewolves in the North. We all know Harry Potter is untouchable during the summer!"

Hidden in the shadows and behind Lucius' back, Harry murmured suggestively in Lucius' ear. "You will forget this encounter. This is all but a dream. You will wake up tomorrow morning and attend to your usual affairs. We have never met."

Lucius slumped down, his eyes closed. The wound on his neck healed and closed. It occurred to Harry that the same might have been done to him when he had been bitten, which might explain his lack of memory of being bitten.

But Harry knew he had some sort of immunity against mental suggestions, as his resistance to the Imperius curse had demonstrated. Either way, Harry was back to square one and had no answers to any of his questions.

Harry spared a look of disgust at the older Malfoy. He decided to let him live. Malfoy had not yet outlived his usefulness.

Harry had come to find the Death Eater for information. Harry had been sure that if there had been any plans or deeds done to harm him, Lucius Malfoy would have known about it—if not the perpetrator.

Harry knew that Lucius was a superb liar, but not so in the face of unplanned adversity or in situation where he was cornered and his life threatened. Harry was forced to admit that Lucius had been telling the truth. He really wasn't aware of any plans to harm the boy-who-lived.

Harry pursed his lips in discontent and climbed out the window. He was going to go to the source of his problem if he was going to solve it.

Harry was going to find a vampire lair.

……………………………………………..

Harry blasted the last vampire standing with a well-placed reducto curse. The rest were in various stages of disarray. Most of them were letting their natural cell-regenerating system heal the holes in their stomachs. This boy sure knew how to cause the greatest amount of pain—without killing them—with the least amount of effort. He had only used the reductor curse.

Every single one of the vampires, however, was stunned at Harry's display of magic. Vampires have no magic whatsoever, as the wizard understands the term. Their cell-regenerating system seeps the magic out of their blood and uses it to sustain survival. Vampirism turns wizards into squids and muggles die from it.

And so, when Harry, an obvious vampire, had all but blasted them away using his wand, they couldn't decide whether to gap at him or to look pained.

Harry was furious with the lot of them. "You blood-sucking leeches! Have you no mind at all? I refuse to be herded into some kind of stupid vampire destiny. Turn me back human you dim-witted senseless barbarians!" (They had told him to just deal with the vampirism and that it was fate that had led him to what he had become. Obviously, Harry wasn't going to accept this hands down.)

"We cannot. It is impossible. It has never been done. Once a vampire, always a vampire."

Harry's head swiveled around to glare at the owner of the voice. It was an old vampire, even by the species' standard. His years could be felt.

"I can do magic, can't I?" retorted Harry. "That's never happened either according to your history, so why couldn't I be turned back?"

The old vampire sighed and gingerly got to his feet. He groaned and placed his hand over his tender stomach. "A life is different from magic, it is unidirectional. Magic…magic has its own agenda."

Harry frowned, "explain yourself, old man."

"A person can be alive, can become undead and can die. In that order. If you could bring back the dead, there would be no sense to life and thus this never occurs in nature," the old vampire said. "Magic, on the other hand, is as flexible as liquid water or as unchanging as ice. I cannot further explain this, as this is as far as our comprehension of the matter goes."

"This is absurd," Harry stated. "I refuse to believe your ramblings. Arrghh. Never mind. Your attempt at a philosophical lecture has given me a headache. Just tell me who turned me and I shall deal with them personally."

"Please, we do not know," the old vampire said. "Leave us be."

"No, someone deliberately played with my mind, transformed me into some dark creature and then let me hang. I want answers, and I mean now," Harry hissed threateningly, his magical aura flaring.

The vampires cowered.

"He has the same strength as…" a young vampire murmured to his neighbor, who nodded vigorously, his eyes staring straight ahead.

Harry's heightened hearing caught the last bit and he turned his chilling green eyes to the offender.

"Who is this 'he'?" Harry demanded.

The young one, caught by surprised, stuttered incomprehensible words and then looked helplessly at the old vampire.

The old vampire sighed and turned to Harry. "We value power amongst the vampires. We also have our own code of honor. We value your power and we wish you not to renounce your abilities," he said to Harry. "We do not have answers for you plight, but we will send you to the Vampire Council. If they cannot help you, then no one will be able to."

"Fine, but first, I want to know about this person who has supposedly the same strength as me," Harry eyed the youngster, very much like the falcon eyes his caught prey.

This time, a middle-aged female vampire answered. "Young Kaldon was referring to Sythe. He is the head of the vampire council. Go to France. Your pleas will be answered there."

"Yes, he will help you," the old vampire repeated, his tone final. "And now you will leave our settlement, you have exceeded your welcome."

Harry snorted and took out his wand. He smiled in satisfaction as the vampires tensed. "Yes, I shall leave, but because it is I who have grown weary of your company. I will go see this so-called council, but if I find out you were herding me around, there will be hell to pay."

Harry let his sentence hang in the tense air for several seconds before he apparated away.

The vampires all sighed in relief. The ones who had already healed themselves went to the aid of the ones still recovering. Slowly, the settlement went back to its usual routine.

When the rest of the vampires had dispersed, the middle-aged female turned to face the old vampire. "He has great hamenleei, you know."

"Yes, he has the ability to affect great change in the world. We can expect great things from him," replied the aged vampire, his withered hands clasped behind his back.


	3. Vampire Council

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Three – Vampire Council

Lucius Malfoy woke up, his neck feeling strangely sore. He assumed it was a result of his falling asleep on the luxurious couch of his study. He got up to his feet, stretched his arms elegantly over his head and went in search of a proper breakfast.

……………………………

Harry's fifth victim was a French girl whose name was pronounced Mah-ree-Fran-ssoi-ze.

She was surprisingly docile in Harry's arm. She didn't put up a fuss, and for this reason, Harry liked her. He didn't drink more than he needed and much less than would discomfort her. He whispered, "forget" in her mind and sent her on her way.

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sulked. It had been impossible to pinpoint the exact location of the Vampire Council.

Three days had already passed since he'd killed the Dursleys. Dumbledore was bound to, at the very least, have found out that he and the Dursleys had disappeared. Harry would have to be more careful and hide his tracks.

But Harry doubted that the Order or the Ministry would look for him in France. They'd search London and Diagon Alley before anywhere else. He was sure he had another week or two of leeway left before a massive hunt for the boy-who-lived would begin.

Harry sat down in the alleyway. He had no choice. He had to wait for the Vampire Council's minions to find him. He had an element of surprise though, he could do magic, unlike the rest of the vampire community. Still, Harry thought, his magic wouldn't be much of an edge if that vampire settlement back in the UK had blabbed.

He'd take his chances and let them find him. He needed answers.

He apparated to the Foret des Sangliers. He settled himself comfortably in the crook of a large tree and waited.

……………………………

After Harry had waited two days for an inexistent minion, he lost patience with the Vampire Council.

Screw them and their protocol. He'd find them and blast them to hell.

Two days of forced fasting had heightened his senses and so Harry went in search of a concentration of blood stench. Vampires had a distinct and unnatural smell that was a mixture of blood and hospital sterility. There was also the lack of the smell of pungent sweat that accompanied normal human settlements.

And in this way, Harry stalked his way around the immense Foret des Sangliers, sniffing, watching and listening for any indications of a vampire lair.

He'd found the first one on his own. The council might be more protected but they had yet to face a furious, starved Harry Potter yet.

It took him the better part of a week but in the end, Harry caught that distinctive vampire scent.

He was puzzled, however, as the odor came from _behind_ a mountain. He looked for a hidden entrance and found none.

He circled the mountain several times before he discovered a well-hidden doorway. It was a magic curtain that gave the illusion of a solid piece of mountain.

You couldn't actually see the curtain unless you looked at it from an angle and then, you'd have to know what you were looking for. Harry had been lucky; he'd seen the slight shimmer of magical cover-up.

At this point, Harry was ravenous. He hadn't fed for almost a week in order to keep his senses sharp. He could smell the vampires. He just couldn't reach them.

Harry memorized the location of the doorway and apparated to the closest human settlement in order to find lunch.

……………………………..

Bastien Lacroix, a bookish young man, was walking his nose in a book when another young man wearing glasses accosted him. The newcomer professed interest in Bastien's book entitled 'Les Théories en Physique du Nouveau Siecle.' Bastien was surprised to hear the other young man converse intelligently on the subject of recent theories complementary to Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Engrossed in their debate, Bastien did not realize he had been lured into an empty street until it was too late.

Bastien Lacroix was stupefied and became Harry Potter's sixth blood-donor. He was later transfigured into a bone and appropriated by a stray dog.

……………………………..

Harry stood in front of the curtain of illusion.

"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered before he stepped through.

……………………………..

The Vampire Council was in chaos. There was an intruder inside the citadel—the alleged impenetrable citadel.

"INTRUDER! INTRUDER!" yelled the vampire guards. "The curtain has been breached by an unidentified subject!"

Various alarms were going off in the citadel. The guards were arming themselves. The breach had been significant. There could be an incoming army!

The opposition could range from wizard slayers, unfriendly werewolves or even an enemy vampire clan. Soldiers were running into position, young vampires were gathering weapons and weaker ones were barricading doors.

The first line of defense had been the mountain illusion curtain. The second was the foot soldiers—vampires who attacked using their heightened speed, endurance and strength. The more powerful vampires were forming the third line of defense; they would unleash dark magical artifacts onto the intruder.

The council itself was tracing the path of the subject. The subject was moving rapidly towards the center of the citadel. The council was astounded; the subject was moving around the lines of defense, easily making its way through it.

What was it? Couldn't the vampires see it? It was blasting its way through magical wards, illusion curtains and solid walls.

Was it unstoppable?

The council could only sense that it was immensely powerful and its aura, dark orange. Realizing that nothing was stopping this intruder, the council prepared to defend themselves for the first time in two hundred years.

The last time the council had been put on the defensive had been when Sythe, the powerful council head himself, had breached the curtain! The council was shaken but holding themselves in a fight stance.

Twenty of the oldest vampires of the Themathien Clan waited anxiously for the subject to appear.

Seconds later, the wall was blasted open on the opposite side of the council room.

………………………………..

Harry was furious with himself.

"Why didn't I think of just blasting my way through this goddammed mountain. I could've gotten in a long time ago! How could I have been so OBLIVIOUS?" he whined at the same time as his reducto hit a clay wall, creating a huge uneven hole.

He continued to make his way through the walls and the wards. He slipped around the soldiers. He was long gone by the time they turned their head around.

When he blasted through the final wall, he found himself facing twenty much-enraged vampires. Their hands were drawn in a attacking position, their back tense, and their eyes throwing daggers. They had been ready to fight to the death.

And then they saw him.

A teenage vampire, with messy hair and skewed eyeglasses, holding a much-used wand in his hand. He was scratching his head with his other hand.

They stared at him, flabbergasted.

He stared at them, disappointed. These _relics_ were supposed to help him? They looked as if a blast of wind would finish them off. Harry sighed and stashed his wand back into his pocket.

"Well hi there, some old vampire told me to find you guys, said you could help me and all," Harry said tentatively. "You are the Vampire Council, right?"

………………………………..

The Vampire Council of the Temathien Clan was having an emergency meeting.

All twenty of them were screaming themselves hoarse. They were trying to decide what to do with the intruder—the extremely powerful intruder. A magic-wielding vampire, the feat was unheard of.

"He is but a child compared to us!"

"But a dangerous one. Kill it or imprison it! He is a threat to our power!"

"There are twenty of us here. There are more outside. What could he do?"

"He breached the impenetrable citadel. He went passed a fortified vampire garrison. He slipped through the foot soldiers and the artificers! He broke into our council room! He's already done the impossible."

"You forget he has magic! Another impossible feat achieved. That alone should be enough to condemn him. He is not a true vampire!"

"Really, Harold, he is most interesting. Wouldn't you want to study him?"

"Study him, Paula? STUDY HIM! He'll kill us all before we can unhand him. He is a wizard! They have persecuted us for centuries!"

Many nodded at this.

"Harold is right!"

"You forget yourself, Harold. You were a wizard, once."

"Furthermore, the child is still part vampire. By our code of honor, we owe him an audience."

"He broke the code first, he blasted his way in didn't he? EH? EH?"

"Harold, please, calm down. He hasn't hurt anyone"

"He will, he will, I tell you. I don't trust him. He'll kill—"

"SILENCE!" roared Sythe. He put his hand up. That was how strong his personality was; the rest of the vampires stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

"No one will kill anyone. I will not allow it. Alright, Harold?" Sythe said. "We will give the wizard child-vampire an audience. Let us hear what he has to say. And only then, will we make a decision. Understood? Good. Guards, let him in."


	4. The Antechamber

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Four – The Antechamber

Harry was left to cool his heels in the antechamber of the council room. He obliged the elder vampires because he understood that after destroying half of their fortress, he'd better play nice for a while if he wanted to get anything out of the old poops.

A small vampire page hesitantly made his way up to him. The young page was carrying a tray with a glass of blood. Harry thanked him and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The page scampered away, tripping all over himself.

One of Harry's eyebrows shot up. Was he, Harry Potter, scrawny teen, _scary-looking_? It was an amusing thought.

Harry glanced at the blood. He sniffed it. He couldn't sense anything wrong with it. Nevertheless, he had just emptied young Bastien an hour ago. Harry didn't need to feed for another day or two.

He didn't want to take the chance of being poisoned by a drink offered by an unknown opponent. The elders on the council didn't get where they were by being stupid. They were all experienced and cunning bastards.

And, as the saying went, experience and treachery will always overcome youth and valor.

No, Harry wasn't going to take the chance. He had better listen to auror Moody's war cry of 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE.' Harry put the full glass back onto the tray.

He twirled his thumbs. He could hear arguing.

He rubbed his scar. The walls were made with vampire hearing in mind.

Harry yawned. It was all noise to him.

He scratched his crotch. This was taking way too long.

He stretched his legs. The boredom, the steady boredom was getting to him.

Harry rubbed his arms. The room was nastily cold.

He unshrank his invisibility cloak—it was the only cloak he had with him—and wrapped it around him. Harry promptly fell asleep.

…………………………….

The council was waiting for the guard to reappear with the teenager with the scruffy hair. When he didn't, Sythe sent Paula to the antechamber.

"Be cautious," he told her. "We don't know the extent of his abilities."

She came back seconds later, the guard in tow. "He's gone, Sythe. There's no sign of him anywhere!"

Everyone started yelling at the same time.

"SILENCE," roared Sythe once again into the raucous room. This time, however, he was ignored and the council members continued to bellow at each other.

Sythe put a hand over his eyes and grumbled something that closely resembled "pig-headed old coots."

Sythe let the rest of the council members fight it out between themselves. He once again recruited Paula and the two to them marched into the antechamber.

Sythe sniffed the air. The intruder's scent was still present in the air, but it was too early to tell if the child was still here or if it was only his lingering scent.

Paula held up the glass of blood. "He didn't drink any, Sythe," she said. "I don't think he trusts us quite yet." Her respect for the child went up.

"I think he is still here, Paula," Sythe said suddenly. "I advise you to be careful."

The vampire head of the council frowned in concentration and let his senses overpower him. His head abruptly swiveled to the couch in the corner facing the door.

He marched up to the couch and with one hand, hauled up the youngster under the invisibility cloak. "Here you are, you prankster!"

Harry's hood fell back. Still half-asleep, Harry mumbled something about "meddlesome old goats."

He half-snored before fully waking up. Harry stopped fidgeting.

"So, are you going to let me down? Or do I have to blast you away like one of you cheap brick walls?" Harry asked Sythe coldly.

Sythe roared with laughter, "cheeky aren't you, wizard child?" He put Harry down. "Will you accompany us into the council room now? We would be pleased if you would let us know the reason of your honorable presence amongst us meek vampires of the citadel."

Harry snorted but nevertheless, followed Sythe out of the antechamber.

Paula chuckled to herself and went back to the council room. "The wizard child and Sythe were very much alike," she thought.

…………………………….

"FINALLY!" Harry screamed mentally. He was finally getting his audience with the famed Vampire Council. But therein lay the problem. He wasn't getting to ask any questions, because the vampire elders kept bombarding him with them.

"Who are you?"

"Where are you from?"

"Why are you here?"

"How can you be a vampire and still do magic?"

"How did you get into the citadel?"

and the most popular question: "Who are you, again?"

Harry didn't bother to answer any questions and, instead, projected the full strength of his aura at them. Predictably, the council members took a step back, frightened by the sheer amount of power. But they recovered fast enough; they were, after all, part of the Vampire Council and used to playing the power-struggle game.

They, however, shut up, which suited Harry perfectly well.

"OK, a month or two ago, I was _unwillingly_ turned into a vampire by a certain somebody who has a death wish. I was advised to come to you to find out who this somebody is so I can fulfill his _most _desired wish," Harry hissed slightly. "And then, I want to be a human again. I have no desire to remain a walking corpse, you see."

A councilor opened his mouth. Harry shut him up with a glare.

"So now, you need to find me this somebody. And then you have to figure out a way to turn me back," Harry concluded.

"What makes you think we'll help you at all, you arrogant young pup!" an angry elder growled. "No proper respect for the elders, you have! Taught some manners, you should be!"

"Maybe if you stopped speaking backwards, I'd be nicer," Harry said scathingly. "And if you don't help me, I'm leveling this whole mountain."

"Now you—"

"With all of you inside," Harry threatened.

He was met with silence and some unadulterated fear. They had, after all, seen what the wizard child had done to their alleged impenetrable and indestructible citadel on a whim.

"That won't be necessary," said Sythe calmly. "Because I was the one who turned you. And I assure, Mr. Harry Potter, that I do not have a death wish."

…………………………….

Harold stared at the wizard child. He stared, not because this was the boy-who-lived—wizards could go to the moon, for all he cared, as long as they left him alone—and not because Sythe was the one who turned the boy—Sythe had done plenty of unexplainable bizarre things in his long life.

Harold stared because the boy was a Potter. Harold hadn't been a Potter for a long long time now—ever since he'd been turned at the age of forty-three actually, four centuries ago. Harold was old in the vampire sense and set in his ways. This was one of the reasons he was so forcefully opposed to the wizard child-vampire's existence.

Things just didn't happen like that in _his_ time.

Nevertheless, Harold was surprised to be genuinely curious about the Potter heir. Harold hadn't felt curious for decades now. Harold liked his routine and was usually displeased to see it disturbed.

But being curious would not do. Harold had renounced being a Potter when he willingly turned. And so, Potter or not, the boy would have to go. He was representing a threat to the Vampire Council. Threats had to be removed.

Harold would watch the Potter boy.

If the wizard child stepped out of line, Harold would contact Sanguine, the domesticated vampire who walked amongst the wizards. Sanguine was a traitor to their kind, be he was useful.

Harold winced in pain when the Potter boy slammed his hand on the table. The kind of power the boy wielded was dangerous. If Harold couldn't control it, he'd have to destroy it. Yes, he would call on Sanguine.

…………………………….

When Sythe announced that he was the culprit for turning Harry into a blood-sucking leech, Harry debated whether to blast a hole through the vampire's head or to eviscerate him slowly. Both methods appealed to him greatly.

However, he did neither of those. Harry forced himself to breathe through his nose and insisted on hearing Sythe's explanations.

The councilors were, for once, silent and united in their curiosity for the situation.

Sythe cleared his throat. "As you know, there is a war in the making."

Harry snorted but signaled for Sythe to continue on.

"The Dark Lord has been recruiting. And, I do not know if you are aware or not, the vampire community is composed of many factions, not all of them good or even neutral."

This caught Harry's attention. Had Voldemort made contact with the vampire clans already?

"We, the Themathien Clan, have always been one of the largest neutral clans," Sythe continued. "However, we can no longer afford to remain on the sidelines of this brewing war, as the outcome will surely affect vampire freedom."

Several councilors caught on to this piece of information. It had been a prime subject of discussion in the past months with the Vampire Council.

"It is our belief that if the Dark Lord comes ahead in this war, he will terminate his vampire allies as well as us, the neutral clans, by extension. That is the way of tyrants."

"Yes, Voldemort is scared shitless of potential enemy. He tried to do me in, didn't he?" Harry said, rather impatiently. "Why don't you people just ally yourself with the ministry? Your problems don't concern me."

"Ah but it does concern you!" said Sythe. "But please, let me continue."

"Then proceed, " said Harry. "I don't have all day to listen to your old geezer ramblings."

Several elder vampires frowned at this wizard child's blatant disrespect for their leader, but Sythe ignored the implied insult and went on with the story.

"The ministry of magic has never been an option, you see, because, in short, they'd cage us like the dangerous animals they believe we are. They have been trying to do so for the last couple of centuries. Why would they stop now?"

Most of the councilors agreed with nods at this.

"We cannot ally ourselves with the ministry. It would be suicide."

"Yes, yes, I get the idea," said Harry. "But please, get to the point, what does this have to do with you turning me into a blood-sucker?"

"The fact is, Harry Potter, this is where you come in as the _third _party. We are aware, you see, of the existence of Sybil Trelawney's prophecy, if not of the exact wording of it," Sythe explained quickly. "We will ally ourselves to you."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in sudden comprehension. "You turned me hoping I'd be loyal to your cause, didn't you," he spat. "How did you know I wouldn't lose my magic and be a regular vampire?"

"I didn't," Sythe grinned, "that's a bonus actually."

If the look Harry gave Sythe could kill, Sythe would be dust now.

"How come I don't remember being bitten or turned?" asked Harry.

"Vampires have a certain degree of persuasion on wizard minds. That's how we have managed to remain hidden all these years," Sythe explained. "You were asleep at the time so it wasn't that difficult to keep you asleep. Although, now that you have been turned, the mental influences will no longer work on you."

Harry wasn't sure whether to believe Sythe or not, but as he was presented with the fait accompli, there wasn't anything he could do about it anymore.

At this point, the councilors were mumbling between themselves. One wrinkled female vampire rose from her chair and faced Sythe. "Head councilor, the rest of us would like to know why you didn't see the need to inform us of your action of turning young Potter here."

Sythe shrugged at this. "It didn't seem relevant at the time. I didn't know if the Potter boy was going to seek us out or not. I didn't want to alarm anyone."

Many of the councilors frowned at this but if they were feeling mutinous, they kept quiet.

Then began a heated discussion between them, debating the use of one Harry Potter in the war to come. Harold was the loudest and the nastiest in his suggestions. Paula still wanted to stick Harry in a lab and study him.

"I'm not some weapon to be used and discarded," seethed Harry. "I haven't even agreed or anything." The Vampire Council was deluded if they thought he was going to help them.

"Thick old geezers. I should have known they were trying to stick me up with some new dumb prophecy. 'Vampire Savior,' my eye. 'Wizardbane,' my foot," Harry grumbled. "I'm a wizard too, or have they forgotten already?"

Old meddlesome goats really needed to get more imaginative with the whole 'I'm on your side' thing.

Harry entertained the thought of actually coming through with his previous threat of flattening them in their hole of a mountain.

But instead, he threw the fear into the elder vampires by slamming his hand on the table, quickly silencing them, and watching satisfactorily as seconds later, the table splintered into pieces, sending sharp pieces of wood into various councilors.

Wooden stakes were the bane of a vampire's existence, and Harry knew it well. Infinitely small splinters are extremely difficult to remove and would cause maximum pain to all of them; if they couldn't remove the splinters, their cell-regenerating system couldn't function properly.

The councilors wouldn't die, the wooden splinters being too small. But they would suffer. Harry hoped Sythe would suffer most, as he had gotten the brunt of the attack.

Smiling sadistically at the pained vampires, Harry said: "This meeting has been extremely unproductive so I'm leaving. Deal with your own problems."

"And next time, don't force my hand," he added. "Or I won't be so lenient."

Harry turned his back and stalked out of the council room.

He left the vampires the same way he arrived, in chaos.

"Told you he could be a prankster," Sythe winced while trying to dig out the splinters that had embedded themselves in his neck and his chest.

The rest of them groaned in pain while calling for guard vampires to help them pick out the splinters that obstructed their reddened flesh.

Sythe turned to Paula, the skin around his neck stretching painfully. "But he'll be back, eh, Paula," the head of the council said to her. "Vampires call to vampires."

* * *

**A/N: "Review or I'm not updating," threatened the author. "Pretty please?"**


	5. Fight or Flight

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Five – Fight or flight

The single most annoying thing about being a vampire with wizard powers is that you don't know if you're supposed to present yourself as a wizard or as a vampire.

"I could be a wizvamp," thought Harry. "Or a vampard?"

Both titles sounded lame and so Harry settled for neither. "I'll just be Harry," he decided. "I hope it's scary enough so that slayers, dark creatures and Voldemort will stay away."

"Not likely," said the imp in the back of his head. "You're a magnet for trouble."

Harry had decided that being a vampire wasn't so bad, since he had kept his wizard powers. He just didn't like the whole drinking blood thing but that was unavoidable.

Harry thought it was funny that he was now, technically, immortal. If he kept drinking blood, he could live right into the next millennium.

"I wonder why Voldemort didn't want to try out this whole vampire thing?" Harry wondered as he climbed into a large tree to spend the night. "I mean, now I'm as strong as any vampire and I still have magic."

Maybe Voldemort didn't want to depend on blood? Or maybe he just didn't like the idea of being a half-breed. He certainly had the power to survive the transformation with his magic intact. He'd survived many worse transformations already. Gee.

For as second, Harry entertained the idea of being able to influence Voldemort's mind. But he quickly dismissed the idea because if that case had been possible, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to deal with the vampire leaders properly.

Most likely, Voldemort was the charismatic one planting bad ideas in the vampire clans. Harry wondered how an old snake-faced bald man could inspire awe and fear. "He has his ways," supposed Harry thinking on all the time he'd seen Death Eaters getting crucio'd.

Harry settled himself comfortably in a nook between two large branches. He flung his invisibility cloak over himself. His last thought before falling asleep was that he should probably get a regular—yawn—cloak.

…………………………..

Harry's seventh victim went by the name of Elizabette Bonagerie. Her real name she kept hidden in order to preserve what was left of her identity. She was a higher end prostitute. She didn't look like the average prostitute either. She was dressed like your everyday working woman, albeit in better taste and more expansive wear.

She was also dressed in red, which appealed enormously to Harry and excited his blood lust in more ways than one. Hey, he was a young man with needs and all, you know.

She was also expansive, but Harry had money. Harry spent the night in her penthouse, frolicking and sipping on her neck at various time. She never noticed he was actually drinking her blood but the experience was orgasmic and she thought him an admirable lover. She loved getting customers like that.

Harry didn't kill her but he rather thought he was like Jack the Ripper. Maybe Jack the Ripper had been a vampire in muggle disguise? Not likely, but the idea was funny.

Slightly before the sun came up, Harry left her, asleep or pretending to anyways, curled up in the sweat-drenched blankets. Harry was suprised to see that his sweat was slightly pink-tinted after he'd drank blood.

He shrugged, threw a wad of money on the table and left through the front door—as opposed to through a window, which he had been doing lately in other homes.

Harry was in the elevator. Muggle contraptions were always useful. He whistled and tried to flatten his unruly black hair.

He wondered when they'd come after him, "they" referring to the light side, the dark side and the vampires.

"Let them come to me," Harry thought darkly. "I can deal with any of them." He cracked his knuckles significantly and laughed at himself. It was really funny to think of himself as someone with physical strength, him who had always been a bit of a disadvantaged in that area despite his quidditch training. Instead of fighting, Harry had always been fleeing from something.

Harry remembered running from Dudley, running from Dementors, running from bullies at school, running from a black dog, running from Voldemort.

He was always running away.

He'd fight the next time. Oh, he certainly would.

………………………….

Has it ever occurred to you that no one in the world missed you, thought about you or tried to find you?

That was how Harry was feeling. He was lonely. It had been several weeks and no one had yet to come after him.

Grateful for the peace but bored out of his mind, Harry paced the wizarding shops of Paris and wandered in and out of fashionable cafes.

He had a green high-collared robe on and the hood of his new wool cloak hid his face. His enchanted dragonskin boots made not a sound as Harry's feet hit the ground.

Harry stopped in front of a dingy shop whose sign read "Les livres du monde."

"The books of the world," Harry muttered to himself before stepping in. "Hogwarts is starting in two days."

He browsed through the aisles.

"I wonder if I'll be able to hide the vampirism," Harry frowned in thought, his fingers softly brushing against the spine of several aged books. "Dumbledore isn't exactly as oblivious as he pretends he is."

Unable to find the books he needed for Hogwarts, Harry went to the front desk and asked the old matronly lady sitting there. She was eager to help the intelligent young man and soon, Harry had a small pouch with his books spelled to fit inside.

On September first, Harry found a traveling agency and bought the necessary paraphernalia. He portkeyed back to Diagon Alley before immediately apparating to King's Cross, where the Hogwarts Express was to be parked for another half-hour.

Harry pricked his tongue on his left fang and tasted blood. He bit his lip. He fidgeted.

If Harry didn't like it at Hogwarts anymore, he could always go back to torment the vampires back in France.

He looked on both sides and stepped across the invisible barrier.

……………………………….

The Vampire Council sat together in their newly fortified room. The damage done by that boy had been irreparable and they had been forced to build around the holes—and the traps he left behind.

"He's back?" Harold exclaimed incredulous. "That disrespectful brat is back?"

"It seems so," Sythe said, just as surprised as the rest of the council. "Much sooner than any of us expected, I think."

"Wasn't he supposed to be at wizard school or something?" asked Paula, her hand curled around her chin. "The old codger Dumbledore would have never let him go willingly."

"You really should ask him, yourself, Paula," Sythe said. "I didn't expect him to be back for another decade at least!"

"He is such an interesting phenomena, I really think…."

"WHY IS HE BACK? THROW HIM OUT! HE'S A RABID ANIMAL!"

"Calm down, Harold."

"What do we do with him? He certainly doesn't need training."

"The wizards will be looking for him, won't they?"

"NOTHING BUT TROUBLE I TELL YOU!"

"Peace, Harold."

"We could send him to the old Gamon in Serbia, what do you think?"

"Why don't we just apprentice him to Sythe? The head council is powerful enough and so is the boy. My face is still hurting from that blast of wood he sent at us."

"SEE! HE'LL KILL US ALL!"

"Shut up, Harold, or you'll go hoarse. We should really just let him do what he wants and I'm sure he'll end up doing something spectacular."

"HE'S DANGEROUS!"

"Someone shut Harold up. What if the Dark Lord wants him, do we give him up? And what of Dumbledore?"

"I'm sure he'll be able to deal with them by himself. For the moment, we'll just let things as they are and he will be apprenticed to me. I will see to his vampire education."

"Hmmm, excuse me," Harry finally said. "Could you please stop talking about me as if I wasn't here?"

"Mad, this whole idea is, I say," mumbled Harold before he was blasted away by a spell sent by Harry.

Sythe addressed Harry. "This is how the council is usually held—"

"Various councilors biting each other's head off?" Harry raised one fine eyebrow. "How quaint."

"—and we discuss things together," Sythe ignored Harry's input. "As I was saying, you will be apprenticed to me and I will teach you some various vampire traits."

"You can try," added Harry, bored. "They tried teaching me at Hogwarts too. As you can see, they failed miserably."

"I will try," Sythe looked at the young wizard vampire appraisingly. "And so will you."

"Council dismissed," Sythe said. "Someone help Harold to his rooms, please."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the prospective of one-on-one time with the head of the vampire council. He had better develop some other painful methods of wood projection to annoy Sythe.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: I like reviews, just so that you know, ok?


	6. Sythe's Hidden Fortress

**Author's Note**: Harry's little adventure as a wizvamp continues.

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Six - Sythe's Hidden Fortress

Harry was wandering in the outskirts of a hidden valley. Muggle-repelling wards and wizard traps surrounded the valley. Getting into the core of the valley would be difficult, even for someone with wizvamp abilities.

"Getting into Lord Sythe's stronghold is a suicide mission," stated Paula. She was following Harry because he made an interesting subject. Every now and then the old vampire would check a box in her notebook or write some illegible comment. Harry's behaviour and his unforeseen abilities were an endless source of amusement for her.

"I'm special," Harry replied arrogantly. "No trap, no ward and no old geezer vampire can stand before me. And anyway, I think that it's supposed to be my first lesson: getting into enemy territory."

"It's only your life," Paula shrugged. She checked the box beside 'foolishly suicidal.'

Harry walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down.

"You know, in an archetypal situation, you would plunge down heroically and then miraculously develop wings," said Paula. "It would be marvellous, don't you think?"

"Trying to induce me into doing another idiotic thing again? Don't think I don't know about your little experiments," Harry said scathingly. "The last time I listened to you, I ended up with green skin and an extra pair of arms. So forgive me if I pretend I didn't hear your suggestion."

"What foolish sentences are you uttering?" Paula smiled innocently in that wise-old fashion only people four-centuries-old can achieve. "I was merely commenting on the stereotypical echo of the current situation."

Harry snorted. He turned away from the cliff and faded into the greenery.

Satisfied, Paula tucked her notes under her arm. She walked to the side of the cliff and stepped onto the invisible bridge that linked the side of the cliff to Lord Sythe's stronghold.

"The boy is going around the valley after all," she laughed serenely. "What a delightful start! I hope Stanley isn't too hungry."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lord Sythe was bended over his working table, scribbling away in his journals. The tiltle was "Lord Sythe's encounter with a wizvamp." Like Paula, he was very interested in the progress of one Harry Potter.

He didn't bother to look up when the door to his study was suddenly swung open. The only person who could manage it without suffering debilitating injuries was Paula.

Sythe grunted a greeting. Paula plopped herself down into the sofa and made herself at home.

"My dear Sythe, would you like to wager on how long it'll take the boy before he cracks your fortress," she suggested.

"No."

"He missed the invisible bridge but he's domesticated your dragon," Paula said, dropping the bomb. "It's quite the feat."

"WHAT?" Sythe looked up suddenly. "What did he do to Stanley?"

"I'm still processing the data from that exploit so I can't exactly tell you yet," Paula said.

"Ok, so basically you don't know," Sythe frowned.

"I'm not admitting to anything," Paula sniffed. Her eyes widened as she looked at the window. Harry sitting on the back of the Stanley the Dragon was approaching at a phenomenal speed and didn't seem to be about to stop despite the giant glass windows of Sythe's fortress.

"Is it me or is it getting darker suddenly," Sythe said, looking up from the papers on his desk.

"Oooh. Look out Sythe," Paula said.

The Harry-dragon complex slammed through the windows, sending glass flying everywhere, the sound of the crash exploding in the study.

The vampire head council barely had time to throw himself under his desk when a huge shard of glass embedded itself where he had been sitting milliseconds before.

With an agile slip of the leg, Paula flipped the couch she had been sitting on in front of the incoming dart-like glass shards.

When the glass had finally settled, the sound of the crash was replaced by the banshee-like scream of the whipping wind infiltrating into the room.

In the midst of chaos, an unscathed Harry leaped off a tough-skinned dragon and walked to the desk under which Sythe was hiding.

Harry crouched down and found himself at eye-level with the head of the vampire council.

"Well, did I pass?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry was sucking on blood-flavoured liquorice. His little adventure had almost sucked him dry of energy. Harry was used to just blast his power around. He was good at causing things to explode, crushing obstacles and flinging multiple objects around.

But when he encountered Stanley the Dragon, Harry couldn't get himself to kill the super cutesy blue dragon with the gleaming scales. So Harry set out to entrance the dragon before the latter decided it wanted Harry for lunch.

Concentrating his power and manipulating magic in such a subtle way wasn't that draining but it was the scale on which Harry had to concentrate that proved to be the challenge. Hypnosis has to take into account the outer mass of the subject and a dragon is much, much larger than say the pre-pubescent teens or young women who were Harry's usual victims.

Nonetheless, Harry had forced a thought into the dragon's mind: "Don't eat Human." And once it had lost its insatiable appetite for humans, Stanley the Dragon proved to be surprisingly affectionate and knowledgeable.

Stanley offered to lead Harry into Lord Sythe's castle. The one problem was that Stanley, like birds, did not realize that glass windows had substance.

So they flew right into the study. not out of vindictive satisfaction to see Sythe once again pinned with glass shards all over, of course.That's what Harry had said to Sythe anyway. Whether the head of the vampire council had believed Harry or not was an entire other story.

Harry bit off another piece of the red liquorice. The candy was only half-chewed in his mouth when he fell curled up and fell asleep.

"Tomorrow…tomorrow, I'm visiting the library," he mumbled. "..Wonder how Hermione and Ron are doing…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the middle of the afternoon. Harry and Sythe were standing in a duelling area.

"I thought you were supposed to show me the library," Harry pouted.

"Yes, I said library but I didn't specify which one," Sythe replied. "This is the weaponry library. There are multitudes of different weapon I've accumulated throughout the last couple of centuries or so. You might find one that suits you."

"What do I need weapons for? I can blast an obstacle away and if for some reason I can't do magic, I can attack them physically," Harry yawned. "I'd most likely be faster and stronger than them."

"What are you saying, fool!" Sythe said harshly. "You must always hold an element of surprise or you'll be too predictable. Do you truly think that the vampires on the council survived all the centuries by relying on the physical advantage that comes with being a vampire?"

"Yeah but they don't have magic," Harry retorted.

"That doesn't mean we're inferior to you," Sythe said. "Duel with me. Talking with you is like trying to reason with a mollusc."

"That is such a random comparison," Harry rolled his eyes. He then grinned predatorily and disappeared from view.

Where Sythe's head had been a second before, Harry's foot swung past, the air whipping behind. Not wasting a second, he used his momentum to slash his other foot onto the ground where Sythe was crouching.

Sythe rolled over and Harry's foot smashed into the floor, leaving a small dent in the bizarre metal that covered the floor of the duelling room. Sythe recovered himself and whipped out a hammer. His back was turned to Harry.

"A hammer?" Harry stared. "I really wasn't expecting that."

"It is wiser to stay silent during a battle," Sythe threw the hammer at Harry, his back still turned. "Talking pinpoints your location extremely accurately.

The hammer passed through the air and crashed into the opposite wall.

"Unless you can project your voice." Harry appeared out of the air and hit Sythe squarely in the back. This time it was Sythe who went flying. Mid-air, he flipped around and landed on his feet.

"Not bad, not bad for a fledging vampire," Sythe chuckled. "This is where the fun begins."

Harry startled a bit at the vampire's maniacal grin before showing his own fangs in a disturbing movement of the lips termed a smile.

Sythe favored a brunt attack to test Harry. He stood, his back to a wall and conjured a various array of weapons. One after the other, he threw at Harry. All the weapons were heavy, sharp and deadly. But not one grazed Harry who was dodging one after the other.

"Is that the best you can do," Harry taunted. "Because you can't expect me not to retaliate!"

Harry grabbed a spear heading towards him, flipped it around and sent it back at Sythe.

Sythe knocked the spear to the side and then had to dodge in surprise when he realized that the spear was followed by cylindric dagger hidden it the shadow of the spear.

The vampire dropped to the ground and several little darts embedded themselves into the wall.

"Sneaky bastard," Sythe marvelled at Harry who had already launched a second attack that involved throwing exploding porcupine-like balls.

The two continued their missile-like combat until Sythe put his hand up, putting a stop to their duel.

"Enough, I've gauged you ability enough to know in which direction to continue your education," Sythe said. "Your creativity in weapons is sufficient but we'll need to work on you air-attacks. Your opponents won't wait for you to gather the energy in your feet."

Harry stopped mid-jump and landed gracefully on the ground. He couldn't stop marvelling at his vampire-acquired strength so he was a bit miffed that Sythe had criticized his jumping prowess.

"By the way, where did you learn all these dirty vampire-hunter tricks. You're one sneaky kid," Sythe said, massaging his upper thigh where wood shards were stuck from one of Harry's attacks.

"Wouldn't you like to know, old man!" Harry smirked before strolling out of the room. He slammed the door behind him.

"Sneaky unchild-like child," Sythe muttered before going on a search for muscle salve.


	7. Vampire Lunch

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Seven - Vampire Lunch

Dumbledore was emptying his candy bowl at a frightening speed. The Minister of Magic was mopping his brow assiduously in his office. Voldemort was in his humble abode cursing his minions in fits of anger.

All three had just been informed of new vampire activities: the activity of one particular vampire, a new recruit who could do magic. The identity of the new vampire was currently unknown as the informant had been killed before he could reveal a name but he had been able to pass the information that this new vampire could do magic.

Magic, that ephemeral power that left a wizard the moment he was turned. Wizards-turned-vampires could not use magic. Most werewolves would not use magic. Magic was what distinguished the wizards from the so-called half-breeds, the animals.

Thus, the existence of a wizard-vampire was very frightening to the three leaders. The unknown is frightening.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry Potter was looking through Sythe's extensive library. He was currently going through the T section.

"Tangle-Tree Curses, Tarantulas Treaties, Taciturn Titans," Harry read as he trailed his fingers along the rows of books. Harry stopped at a withered book titled "Terror at the Ministry."

He flipped through the book.

"Oh, how to access the Minister's office…Getting around aurors…Penetrating inside the Department of Mysteries," Harry read. He was especially gleeful at a part describing how to get rid of an Undersecretary.

Harry put the book back onto the shelf and wandered into the curse sections. He pulled out a book called "How to Curse your Way out of Deadly Situations" and proceeded to read it.

Two hours later, he proceeded to the kitchens for lunch.

Sythe and Paula were already drinking warm blood soup with peas and chunks of meat. Harry declined soup in favour of a grilled-cheese sandwich and a tall glass of blood. He liked simple meals if he didn't have direct access to fresh blood.

"Say, Sythe," Harry started. " What do you know about ministry take-overs?"

"Not much, we vampires have been keeping away from wizard politics for the last couple of decades," Sythe said. "Ever since that fellow Grindewald tried to get us to join in his fight actually."

"What about you Paula?" Harry asked. "You're always recording things."

"Wizard politics are beneath us vampires. They are never long lasting. They last a couple of decades before being replaced by a completely new government." Paula looked up arrogantly from her bowl of soup. "Despite that, their policies haven't changed for centuries. They are rather quite boring. I study sensational phenomena." Here she looked pointedly at Harry.

Harry fidgeted under her gaze, not looking forward to her next sneaky attempt at experimenting with his abilities.

"You really shouldn't ask Paula on ministry business," Sythe snorted in his soup. "She may act all high and mighty but the fact is that she doesn't understand wizard policies."

He bent his head and whispered to Harry conspiratorially. "Between you and me, Harry, before she was turned, Paula was a stuck-up analytical potions mistress. She spent her time in her labs tinkering with herbs and chemicals. She hasn't changed much. She's still stuck-up and extremely nosey."

Harry laughed.

"When she was turned, the first thing she did was to go down to her labs and perform blood tests on herself!" Sythe added in a theatrical whisper.

"You really shouldn't whisper so loudly, Sythe," Paula looked at him sharply. "And just by the way, I remember that _you_ nearly fainted when you woke up and was told you had been turned. And you were more vexed about not having your books being magically read to you than about losing your magic."

Paula turned to Harry, as Sythe eyes had grown wide and was waving his arms at her to stop gossiping about him.

"Our lazy head of council went around scaring wizards so they would charm his books to read aloud. And when he didn't have a wizard handy, he charmed muggle women to read his books while he sat on his couch," she told Harry. "He was not only lazy, he was a coward and…"

Sythe had clapped his hand over Paula's mouth. "Now Paula, you wouldn't want me tell Harry here about that time you mistook glue for muggle face cream now, would you?"

Paula eyes widened and shut up.

Harry was doubled over and nearly spilled his glass of blood, thoughts about ministry take-overs and voldemort chases put aside for the moment.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry was riding Stanley the Dragon over Diagon Alley. They were above the clouds so Diagon Alley shoppers wouldn't panic at the sight of a wild dragon. Harry was surveying the area through a mirror.

Sythe had given the mirror to him. The mirror could show any layers of a region positioned underneath it. Harry could see up to the core of the earth with this mirror. But for now, Harry wanted to see Diagon Alley going-on's.

"Malfoy and junior Malfoy are shopping," Harry remarked to Stanley. "Isn't junior supposed to be at Hogwarts? Of course, I'm supposed to be at Hogwarts too…"

Stanley snorted and flew in circles so Harry could see where the Malfoys were heading.

"Oh they just apparated away! Now I'll never know," Harry pouted. Stanley snorted.

"Right, a locator spell," Harry brightened and then his face fell. "Shit, I should've listened to Flitwick during that last class."

Stanley snorted again.

"Uh, fake-moody lesson number five: use an easy spell to get what you want," Harry murmured to himself. "_Accio_ Harry's charms manual!"

Five minutes later, a book zoomed into his hand. He flipped through it and then nearly dropped the book.

"Watch the turbulences, Stanley," Harry scolded. "I nearly fell off!"

Stanley ignored him and Harry went back to flipping through the pages until he landed on the spell needed.

"Ok, here goes, _Locatotal Lucius Malfoy,_" he pointed randomly. His wand jerked around until it pointed down, northeast of their directions. "That way, Stanley!"

And Stanley pumped his wings harder and cut through the clouds.

The two found themselves at Hogwarts gates. They couldn't go further because the school wards wouldn't allow anyone to fly through.

"Blast my way through?" Harry thought. "That is what I'm good at after all. But I don't want to call attention to me."

He motioned at Stanley to land in the Forbidden forests and Harry quickly made his way onto school grounds, leaving Stanley to amuse himself.

"Malfoy is probably just bringing junior back to school," Harry surmised. "They must have portkeyed to Dumbledore's office or maybe Snapes. But why did Lucius have to go? What dirty business is he engaging in?"

Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak. He headed to one of Hogwarts secret passages.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lucius Malfoy was indeed in Snape's office. Draco had made his way back to the Slytherin's common room.

Harry listened at Snape's door. The greasy git should have silencio'd his rooms.

"…is extremely angry. The negotiations with the vampire community have been going on atrociously. Bell was sent back emptied of blood and his eyes gouged. We've stopped sending representatives," Harry heard Malfoy say. "Severus, the Dark Lord wants you to prepare a potion that will make vampires unable to digest blood. They'll die if they are unable to process the blood. We must neutralize their threat."

"A pre-emptive strike," Harry heard Snape say. "I'll assume I must do it now and sent it back with you to the Dark Lord."

"That is the general plan."

"Very well, it will take no more than an hour as I have the initial part of the potion bottled."

Harry heard Malfoy sit down on a couch and Snape tinker with cauldrons and bottles. He heard ingredients being cut and water boiling.

Malfoy dropped his bomb. "Severus, you've heard of that rumour, the one of a so-called wizard vampire?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Nothing, just that it is strange that it coincides with the disappearance of the Potter boy no? Didn't he come back to school all weird and then disappeared one night?"

"Potter is an arrogant little brat. He would certainly not have been able to achieve the things this wizard vampire has been heard of doing," Harry heard Snape sneer. "It is most likely Potter was killed in one of his own Gryffindor heedless adventures. No great loss."

"I wasn't suggesting that Potter was the wizard-vampire," Harry heard Lucius say. "But your logic makes a lot of sense. The Dark Lord will be happy to hear about this."

So they thought he was dead. Harry laughed inwardly. He would have to be careful of hiding his identity from now on. Knowing he wouldn't learn anything more, Harry left silently. Harry needed to inform Sythe of the things he'd just heard.

As he was about to make his back into the passageway, he stopped for a second.

"I haven't seen either Hermione or Ron in ages," Harry thought. He stood for a while and then headed towards Gryffindor tower.

He went in behind a third-year through the portrait-hole. He then saw them: Hermione and Ron. Hermione was scribbling on a parchment and Ron was pulling on strands of her hair. She laughed at something he said and sent ink flying at Ron. He made a face and then laughed with her.

Harry looked on at his friends. His heart tightened at the sight of his two best friends who could live on without him. He suddenly remembered why he had left Hogwarts that night. Harry turned and left through the portrait hole, promising never to return.

"Why isn't there anyone coming in?" Hermione remarked about the empty-doorway. Ron shrugged and poked Hermione in the ribs. She turned her attention back to the redhead, thoughts about invisible people forgotten.

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Author's Note: I seem to keep finishing sections with forgotten thoughts. I hope I won't be forgetting things on my midterms. Arghhh. I gotta go back to studying for that molecular bio test. Prof. Lasko is heartless….


	8. Human Cattle

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Eight – Human Cattle

"I thought you didn't care about either Ministry, Dumbledore or Voldemort," Sythe said after Harry had informed him of Voldemort's plans to poison vampire bodily systems. "Or about vampires, for the matter."

"It's not about caring, you old vamp," Harry retorted. "It's about my survival as a vampire. Do you truly think I want my insides rotting away while I'm still conscious?"

"That's not how the potion works," Paula remarked while crossing off the "has a death wish" tick she had previously marked on her clipboard about Harry's actions. She wrote down a note that said: "no death wish but continues to enter into foolishly suicidal situations. Is he just plain dumb? Or reckless?"

"The potions is drunk by a human. The human becomes a carrier of a blood disease that will be transferred to vampires. The problem here is that the vampire will not be a carrier," Paula explained. "The vampire will have the full-blown disease. Our stomach lining will be unable to absorb blood. As such, we will slowly die, shrivelling up."

"That's pretty gruesome," Harry said. "Well, what about blood transfusion?"

"No, it is the nutrients of human blood that we need," Paula said. "The proteins, oxygen and nutrients that float in the plasma."

"Animal blood?" Harry asked.

"Hypothetically, we could survive on it," Paula said. "But as you know, it is neither tasty nor nourishing enough."

"Ah I see…" Harry said as Paula resumed scribbling notes.

"The future looks grim," Sythe said.

Paula looked up from her clipboard and turned to Harry. "Tell me Harry, what do you plan on doing a couple of centuries from now?"

"What do you mean?" Harry looked at Paula oddly. "I—"

"What Paula means is what do you want out of life?" Sythe interrupted. "Do you want to crush wizarding society, make Voldemort into an inferi or maybe become a Dark Lord yourself?"

"Uh…" Harry looked dumbstruck at the idea of being a Dark Lord. It wasn't such a bad idea.

Harry scratched his head and then frowned at the two elder vampires. "I'll think about what I want out of life after I'm not being chased by madmen and after I find out how to prevent my human food reserve from getting contaminated," Harry said. "Right now, I'm into immediate gratification."

He took a long gulp of the tall glass of blood before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do something about that vampire-killing potion."

Sythe frowned. Paula scribbled on her clipboard.

"I'm going out," Harry said before leaving, muttering about "more plans. I hate plans."

"Paula, I feel old," Sythe remarked after Harry had departed for his unknown location.

"Sythe, by definition, you are old," Paula said frostily. She walked to the door and said, "I'm going to my labs."

Sythe stood alone and sighed. He grabbed his cloak and also headed out. He had some vampire clans to warn. The wizards were on the move again.

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Sythe was currently speaking with the leader of a very old vampire clan in France.

"Yes, we did indeed meet the child with magic," the old leader vampire said, unconsciously massaging his chest. "He gave us quite a fright."

Sythe raised an eyebrow but refrained from asking what Harry had done. It was probably nasty and painful and Sythe did not want to be reminded of what his council had to suffer at the hands of the mere fledging vampire.

"He has quite the hamenlei, you know?" the old vampire continued.

Sythe was a bit startled. It wasn't often that elder vampires could attribute someone specifically with the ability to bring change in the world. Sythe himself had never used the word more than twice and both times had concerned situations rather than a specific person.

But Harry was a wizvamp. He was in a whole other category.

"The child aside, we will prepare on the account that the system-blocking potion will be in circulation amongst wizards," the old vampire said. "I'll have an announcement made tonight."

"Very well," Sythe said. "I shall proceed to warn the other clans then."

"Yes, head of council," the old vampire said. "Farewell to you."

Sythe hopped on Stanley and flew off. Having Harry around domesticating his dragon pet had proved mighty useful.

Hamenlei…Sythe could believe that because it was Harry, the sneaky little bastard.

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Harry apparated to Diagon Alley. It downed on Harry that he'd been apparating a lot although he'd never actually learned apparating.

Harry shrugged. It was probably the vampire assimilation abilities kicking in. During their training Sythe said that vampires tended to learn things faster and better. It had to do with the improved cognitive sensory motors in his neurons and the improved transmission between synapses or something. Harry was no biologist, he was just happy when his arm moved when he wanted it to move.

The first thing Harry did in Diagon Alley was to kick Lucius Malfoy in the balls.

Actually, that's what Harry wanted to do but he refrained himself from doing so because Lucius was going to lead him to the den of potion brewers who were probably replicating Snape's potion. And if Lucius didn't lead him there specifically, chances were that Malfoy was on some other deadly and dangerous mission for Lord Voldemort.

That's what Harry was thinking so his eyebrows shot up pretty high when he saw Lucius enter "Madam Paddington's Shop for Creams and Powders." Was Lucius buying face powder for his stuck-up rendition of a wife?

"I can't possibly go in there looking like this," Harry stared at his Dursley-ish grey shirt and the patched trousers with the hem stuck in his boots. "Ok, transfiguration 101, here goes."

With a wave of his wand and carefully muttered words, the previously large old-looking shirt was whitened, freed of wrinkles and patterned with blue stripes. The pants lightened to beige and developed corduroy folds. Harry looked like an outright dandy, one that belonged in the cream and powder shops.

Harry lightened his hair to brown. He widened his eyes into an innocent look, stretched his lips into a semblance of a smile and arched one of his eyebrows in imitation of Lockhart.

All in all, Harry Potter did not look like Harry Potter anymore.

Harry groaned inwardly. "I can't believe I'm subjecting myself to this…"

He entered the shop and found himself in a world of frills and jasmine-scented air. His vampire-accentuated senses were being attacked from every direction. The shop reminded him of Umbridge's office.

His smile still in place, he browsed the shelves. Lucius was apparently browsing the shelves too.

"How can women put all these chemicals on their faces and not explode," he wondered. Harry was holding a jar of "Citrus-Scented Milk Powder" when Lucius addressed himself to Madam Paddington, the owner of the shop.

Harrry's back was turned to them but he could distinguish their voices amidst the chatting of girls and women.

"Madam Paddington, Narcissia has been indisposed lately," Lucius said. "In the abdominal region."

Madam Paddington smiled and reached under the front desk for a vial of green liquid and handed it to Malfoy.

"It must be drank by the intended and the person's blood protection will be enhanced greatly against intruders," she instructed.

Lucius nodded and passed her a thick envelope and pocketed the vial.

Harry thought quickly. Was Narcissa really indisposed or was this place the gateway of potion black market. Didn't Snape already brew the vampire-killing potion?

Harry wanted the vial. He went up to the front desk to buy the jar of milk powder he was holding to keep his persona. He might have to come back here.

"I adore the scent of citrus," he told the girl there. "Don't you?"

The girl tittered and gave him a discount.

Harry turned to Madam Paddington and gave her a charming smile.

"I couldn't help but overhear about your superb potion for abdominal pains. I think it might help my girlfriend."

"Oh we're all out of them," Madam Paddington smiled toothily. "You might want to try another shop."

"I see," Harry said frostily.

Harry thanked her and left and went around the building. He reverted to his former attire and disappeared in the shadows. There had to be another entry than through the shop.

He'd get to the bottom of this trafficking of blood-rotting potions. If the effect of the potion spread to the entire population, the wizards would cut off the vampires from their main supply of blood.

Vampires could either drink human blood and have their blood processing system rot away or they could not drink and die anyway. It was win-win situation for wizards. The ministry might even approve such potion.

Harry was worried. He might not have any food left in a couple of decades or so.

He had to get to the bottom of this.

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Author's Note: I've been reading way too much on blood and neurons…and I think there are a lot of unanswered questions about certain issues...argh. The word 'hamenlei' is from The Elvenbane, if anyone is interested.


	9. Choking Dumbledore

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Nine - Choking Dumbledore

"Funny," said Harry. He was silently pacing round and round Madam Paddington's Shop for Creams and Powders.

"When a witch doesn't want a door to show, the door does not show," Harry sighed. "Clever piece of magic."

Harry could sense that there was a door, but the magical concealment was flawless. He debated just blasting the walls away but he would undoubtedly attract the attention of customers and owner alike.

Harry cringed at what Paula had said of him not long ago: "Foolish child, you do not have a inkling of subtlety in your entire body!"

"Change of plans," Harry murmured to himself. "Operation Stealing from Lucius is officially on."

He walked back onto Diagon Alley and looked for the prominent blond head.

Spotting Malfoy walking quickly out of Diagon alley, Harry hurried after him. When Lucius found himself in a particularly crowded area, Harry brushed by him and gingerly replaced the phial Lucius had in his pocket with one of approximate size and weight.

"Easy," Harry grinned. He took out the charms book he'd accio'd the other day and unshrank it. He flipped through a page looking for a copy charm. There didn't seem to be any.

"Guess you can't photocopy a potion," Harry concluded. "No wonder potions masters are so popular, even if it's Snape, the ugly git."

Harry ran after Lucius. Using his vampire influence, he implanted into Lucius' mind that the batch of the potion had been contaminated. This way, Harry covered his tracks and would get Lucius to return to the cream shop to get another potion, giving Harry another opportunity to snoop.

He apparated away with a small POP.

Back at Sythe's fortress, Harry asked Paula to test the potion. She raised an eyebrow when Harry just happened to mention that he'd stolen it from Lucius Malfoy without the Death Eater realizing it. She kept her thoughts to herself on that.

Paula took one look at "Madam Paddington's Potion for Tummy Pain" and stared at Harry, daring him to say it was a joke.

"It's suspicious," Harry shrugged.

"An insult to my mastery," Paula complained, but she headed to her labs nonetheless. Harry followed her to her labs but got kicked out on account of his loud breathing.

Two hours later, after ingredient mixing, diagnostic spells and an interesting formation of pink smoke, Paula came out of the labs.

"Harry you idiotic child," Paula started. "That potion is for—"

"Yes?" Harry eagerly prompted.

"It's a potion against infidelity, you doofus brain!" she said exasperatedly.

Harry stood very straight. "Infidelity…what do you mean?" he asked. Then it clicked. "You mean, Narcissa's…"

"Yes, this is to protect the lady's virtue. Only the husband will be able to make use of conjugal rights," Paula slowly explained, as to an especially dumb child. "The wizard must be suspicious. I fear the lady's poor lover is going to lose a very vital part of himself once the potion is administrated…"

"The shop's owner talked about blood protection against intruders," Harry bit his lip. "I thought she was talking about protecting their blood against vampires."

"Actually, this potion is quite similar to that blood-intolerance potion against vampires," Paula said. "The basic idea is the same. The individual carries a substance in her or his blood that is activated by a specific intruder, be it a vampire or a clandestine lover. The intruder is then annihilated, terminated, finito, caput."

"HA, so I wasn't completely wrong!" Harry pointed out. "This could be a preliminary potion that Snape is going to use to test out the potency of his own potion!"

"When you get to my age, you will see that not everything is connected," Paula rolled her eyes. "You really should be more relaxed. Well, I cannot dillydally all day long now, ta-ta."

The old vampire left without another word.

"Liar, who sleeps with two blood-sucking pets under her bed, tons of wards around her rooms and a decoy in the bed?" Harry muttered under his breath. "Paranoia is overrated, my behind, you old hag."

Harry headed for the door and looked in the hallway.

"Screw the potion, I'm going to get some lunch," Harry said. "Where's the other old geezer now? Lord Sythe, Mister Head of the Great Vampire council, ugly old git…"

Harry muttered to himself all the way to the kitchens. The house-elves were a bit frightened by him. "Scary Master Harry!" they whispered amongst themselves.

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Harry was sitting pow-wow style and facing Voldemort. The Dark Lord was also sitting on the ground, his legs crossed.

"Such a picturesque moment," Harry thought dispassionately. "He looks more disturbing than usual."

With a wave of his wand, Harry dispelled the image of Voldemort. He flipped through a chapter called "Believable Illusions" in his charms textbook.

"_Illusioni Veritable_," he said with a jab of his wand. Nothing happened.

"The jab is right, pronunciation is correct," Harry muttered while searching his book. "What am I doing wrong? Ah. I see."

Harry repeated the spell but now he pointed the wand at himself. He blinked a couple of times. And Voldemort was standing in front of him. The Dark Lord was holding a cupcake and a glass of milk. The glass broke and the milk spilt all over the floor.

Harry chuckled. Voldemort turned into Snape. Harry flipped Snape around before sending the man crashing through the window. The wind blew hard through the broken shards. There was no sign of a body.

"Finite incantatem illlusioni," Harry said. The room turned to normal. The window was repaired. The wind stopped. It was as if the milk had never been spilt; no body had ever been thrown through a window. Harry scratched his chin.

"So the first illusion spell modifies the air particles so that an image is formed," Harry concluded. "The second illusion spell modifies photoreceptors in the eyes of an individual so that one will see what the caster wants."

Harry cast an image of a person being mauled to death by a hypogriff. Harry smiled nastily.

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It's not always easy to be Albus Dumbledore. He has to look over a magical school, placate the ministry and deal with a madman. For the past months or so, he had to search for one missing Harry Potter and gather information about dark creature activities.

"Werewolves and vampires are restless," Dumbledore mentioned to the portrait of a past headmaster. "It is my desire that this restlessness can be channelled into a contract with the Order."

"I'll see what I can do," the man in the portrait said and disappeared from view.

"A messenger hidden amongst a portrait of past headmasters?" said a voice coming from the shadow of a bookcase. "Clever. Hiding in plain view is still the best approach."

Dumbledore bolted around, his old fingers wrapped around his raised wand.

"Now, now Dumbledore," said the voice. "You were never this nervous before."

"In these times, it is wise to be careful," Dumbledore said. "One can never know who is who and what is what in these days of war."

"But your prowess at deciphering illusion is impeccable, infamous in fact," the voice sneered, "You've caught me plenty during my roaming days at Hogwarts."

"Which weren't that long ago," Dumbledore said. He lowered his wand at the sight of the person sitting on the plush couch. "Harry, it is you. We've been looking for you."

"And I for you," Harry smiled disturbingly.

Dumbledore sent a binding spell at Harry.

"You won't catch me," Harry said as he bent his head. The spell flew past him.

"Attrapas Lerifress," Dumbledore waved his wand once again. "Refurigues Lores!"

Harry moved as if he anticipated where all the spells were going to be sent.

"I have absolutely no idea what those spells were," Harry said conversationally to Hogwart's headmaster.

"You really shouldn't have left school then," Dumbledore replied.

"Oh, but I don't think that Flitwick covers that type of spells," Harry said as he threw a book in front of himself, blocking a particularly nasty cutting curse. "Dangerous spells you're throwing around, Dumbledore."

"My boy, you are testing the limits of my patience," Dumbledore lashed out another curse, which Harry was unable to avoid or block. He was hit full blast and crumpled to the ground.

Dumbledore walked over to Harry's body and was about to levitate him when the old headmaster was hit from behind by a simple "stupefy."

Harry looked at Harry the decoy and at the fallen Dumbledore. The illusion of the decoy disappeared.

"Master of illusions you are no more, dear Dumbledore," said Harry. "Feel no wind, hear no whispers and see no pictures. You were blinded by your own beliefs."

"Portraits didn't see me either, so I won't be too harsh on you, " Harry added. He was sitting on the windowsill just outside of Dumbledore's office. He was wrapped in conjured fur, his hair whipping in the wind. Harry hadn't even set foot into the castle.

Sitting just outside the headmaster's office, Harry had cast both illusion spells on Dumbledore. One illusion hid the other illusion. As such, once the first one was dispelled, Dumbledore believed he was seeing the reality.

"Blocus Eosophagus!" Harry said, pointing at the headmaster's throat. "Ennervate!"

Dumbledore started choking.

"Accio parchment!" Harry said. "It is your own fault you're going to die, you know. Who told you to let this paper be taken away only if you're about to die? Dumb condition, if you ask me, Dumbledore."

Harry enjoyed immensely the torment he was causing the old headmaster. The air outside was cold but Harry relished the bitter satisfaction.

"PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!" a female voice screamed from the doorway.

Hermione Granger ran towards the professor and lifted his head up. She didn't see Harry.

"Professor, professor! Are you alright?" she said. She took out her wand and levitated the professor.

"Heading to the hospital wing?" Harry said, revealing himself. "You better hurry. You of all people should know that a lack of oxygen to the brain could result in severe head trauma, even death. Professor Dumbledore will never be the same."

Hermione looked shocked at seeing Harry but didn't waste time on uttering an "_oxygen replenisco._"

Dumbledore's face lost the blue color and the old man stopped choking. His eyes were closed and only the slow rising of his chest showed that he was alive.

"Why didn't you help him, Harry?" Hermione looked up at Harry. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Pretty tight with the headmaster, aren't you?" Harry ignored her questions. "Just walking in like that eh. I wonder what would've happened had you not shown up."

"You did this to him," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide. "Harry—"

"Does it matter? You saved him, didn't you," Harry said. He stroked the fur he was wrapped in. The wind was blowing Hermione's hair all over the place and creating a mess out of Dumbledore's papers. "I, on the other hand, got what I wanted."

Harry showed a thinly rolled parchment. He stumbled on his windowsill. The wind was blowing absurdly and dangerously hard.

"Harry, be careful," Hermione said, "You'll fall!"

Harry snorted.

Ron walked into Dumbledore's office looking for Hermione and was surprised to see Dumbledore lying on the floor and his girlfriend pleading with his missing best friend to be careful.

"Hermione? HARRY?" Ron said. "I—"

Harry put him in a body-bind, not wanting to deal with two overexcited and angsty teenagers. He debated whether to just stun Hermione and leave them there. He had, after all, gotten what he wanted.

However, resentment ate Harry up at the sight of his two so-called best friends and he turned to Hermione.

"I promised myself I would never set foot in Hogwarts again," Harry said. "You of all people should know why. Had I not obliviated you, you would be damning my existence."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione pleaded. "Please, Harry!"

Harry lifted his wand and pointed it at Hermione. "_Revelio Memorandum_"

Hermione's eyes widened. She put her hands on her head and fell down to her knees. She stuttered out the word "vampire" and shook as the memories overtook her physical control. Harry waved his wand at Ron. Ron was relieved of his enforced stupor and ran to Hermione.

"What did you do to her?" Ron yelled at Harry. "FIX IT!!!"

"I can't fix the truth," Harry said as he looked at Ron's red face and Hermione's shaking sobs. Harry gave himself a push and fell from the windowsill.

Hermione Granger was put into the hospital wings and administered magical versions of sedatives. One worried Ron Weasley sat at her side all night, holding her cold clammy hands. Dumbledore was sent to St-Mungo's, his injuries past what Madam Pomfrey could handle.

Under the cover of the night, a shadow of a boy riding a dragon glided amongst dark clouds, a prelude to the war that was to come.

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Author's Note: Is Harry dark? I'm not sure…but I sure like Stanley the Dragon. The two scenes were sort of disconnected. Anyhow, I really should put more blood-sucking scenes…


	10. The End of an Era

Important Note: **STOP READING!!!!** This chapter is some crap I wrote ages ago when I wanted Harry to go crazy and kill everyone. I just posted it because the lack of development in this story is making me angry. I apologize for posting this chapter and to those who've read it. As of now, story is ON HIATUS until I resolve my inner demons about pace, plot and characters. Thank you to those who have taken the time to read so far.

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Feel my Fangs

Chapter Ten – The End of an Era

"I'll lead the rebellion," Harry had said. "Just for the sake of it."

"Do you think it wise that a fledging vampire half-breed will lead dark creatures in a fight against the ministry of magic?" Paula asked Sythe. "He is awfully young."

"But you know him, Paula," Sythe said. "Harry's done incredible as well as unbelievable things. Hell he's a wizvamp!"

"You realize a good forty-five percent of dark creatures will be annihilated in this battle," Paula looked on her clipboard. "This would've never happen if young Harry here had never been turned. He would have had more _compassion_."

"For all your facts and figures, Paula, you're wrong," the vampire head of council said. "The tension and the conflict, the despair and the hate, it was always there, brewing under the surface. Harry just used it to achieve his end. It has nothing to do with being a vampire or a wizard."

Paula was thoughtful.

"Harry is an opportunist," Sythe explained. "But he has the power and the charisma to back up whatever he wishes to do. Look at how he rounded up the vampires and the werewolves. Look at how he convinced them to cooperate. Look at how he's using each clan's strength in the best possible combination. Had Harry not shown up, we would have been on the losing side."

"Vampires are not that weak," Paula huffed. "We could've managed even without those _dogs_."

"Paula," Sythe sighed. "Your excessive pride is blinding you."

The old vampire flipped her long hair back. "Harry had better hurry up and win this battle. Standing here was so un-stimulating."

Sythe smiled but remained silent. He watched as the battle waged on, Harry at its' head. The boy had much hamenlei, the power to bring change in the world. Harry was proving it.

"And one dead Fudge!" screamed Harry. "Keep moving werewolves! Don't stop!"

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"Paula. Paula!" Harry marched up to the old vampire, a crooked smile splitting his face. "We've gotten into the ministry. We're fighting floor by floor now. We're almost there."

"This isn't a rebellion anymore," Paula remarked to Harry.

"You're right," Harry looked at the massacre going under his eyes and grinned savagely. "It's a revolution."

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Harry stood in front of the Veil. They had finally managed to get the to the last floor of the ministry. They were in the Department of Mysteries. But only the Veil interested Harry.

Getting Sirius out was out of the question. His godfather had passed on a long time ago. Long enough that it didn't hurt to think of him anymore. Harry's heart had gone cold a long time ago.

But the Veil was to have its use. It was going to be the pillar of the new era.

Harry laughed. The vampires and the werewolves looked nervously at their slightly crazed leader.

Harry stuck his arm into the Veil and pulled with all his considerable might.

Five thousand miles above the Veil, in the clouds, an ear-splitting screech was heard.

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"C'mon, just shut up now," Harry said to the Banshee. "I'm tired of having to waste energy in keeping a sound shield around you."

The Banshee continued emitting nasty vibrations from inside her bubble.

"Useless piece of dark creature," Harry mumbled. "At least werewolves have a good sense of smell and are furry and nice to cuddle with. Vampires know where to get my lunch. But you, my dear, just spend your time screaming. You old hag. You're even uglier than Dumbledore."

Harry massaged his temples. "If I feed you a human will you shut up?"

The Banshee stopped screaming and looked at Harry with interest.

"No way! You're not eating me," Harry said indignantly. "I'll find you a Death Eater or something. How do you like rat?"

"Harry?"

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Harry frowned. "Don't tell me you followed Dumbledore here…"

"As a matter of fact I did and so did Ron!" Hermione said puffing herself up. "He trusts us."

"Actually it's good to see you, my dear friend," Harry said showing his teeth. "Would you like to see the Banshee closer?"

"It's an interesting specimen isn't it? I read all about them in Lockhart's book 'Banishing Banshees'," Hermione said as she walked around the Banshee's shield. "I'm going to tell Dumbledore that I'll take on the Banshee as a project."

"Really? Do come closer, Hermione," Harry said politely. "Do you see that mark she has on her forehead?"

"What? Where?" Hermione leaned closer. She put her hands on the shield.

"I lied. The mark is on my forehead," said Harry and he gave Hermione a hard shove. Hermione plummeted past the shield and was gobbled up by the Banshee.

"Ooops, I tripped," Harry said innocently. "Geez what happened to Hermione? Oh well, the hag stopped screaming."

Harry was about to leave when he turned to the Banshee and said: "You're not the pillar I'm looking for and I'm sorry I brought you here. But good luck with dealing with Dumbledore. Ciao Banshee."

Harry walked out of the Department of Mystery, summoned the vampires and werewolves who were waiting for him and portkeyed everyone out.

Dumbledore and Ron walked in not half a minute later. "Hermione?"

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Blood. Ah fresh blood…

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"I feel like I've forgotten something," Harry said to Neville.

"Sorry, but I don't have a remembrall anymore," Neville said while blowing on his hot chocolate.

"Congratulations on making prefect, by the way. Ron must be devastated," Harry said.

"Thanks. Ron took it surprisingly well, in front of me anyways," Neville said. "I heard from Dean that he'd broken the dormitories after, though. Apparently the house-elves had to rush to replace everything. It was very inconsiderate of him."

Harry laughed.

"By the way, why are you back at Hogwarts, Harry?" Neville asked. "You're in the top ten wanted list of the Ministry, you know."

Harry shrugged. "I thought I'd come back and take some lessons. I'll be gone before you know it."

"I don't mind if you stay, Harry," Neville said. "Just don't drink my blood without asking permission. I might think there are mosquitoes in the room or something."

"You amuse me," Harry smiled as he slouched on a Gryffindor couch. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know what the password to Dumbledore's office is?"

"No, they don't tell that to prefects," Neville said apologetically. "But I do know the passwords to all the houses' common rooms."

Harry cheered up. "Tell me."

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Theodore Nott was diligently working on a transfiguration essay in the Slytherin common room. On his left sat Pansy Parkinson who was flipping through images of necklaces and dressrobes in a TeenWitch.

"Say, Theo, did you hear? Malfoy's mum is pregnant again," Pansy said. "The catch-me-a-lover potion Malfoy's dad gave her was faulty apparently. I heard it when my father told my mum."

"So Malfoy's gonna have a half-sibling," Theodore chuckled. "I bet you ten galleons that the father is that dancer that Draco dragged us to see with his mum last month."

"You're on," Pansy said without taking her eyes off her magazine. "And you're going to lose, because I know for a fact that she was seeing a Ministry attaché."

"We'll see when the baby's out, now, won't we," Theodore said as he finished his essay, adding a flourish to the last letter. "I bet to win, Pansy, dear, remember that."

"Well so do I, Theo, honey," Pansy said, looking up as she smiled knowingly. She threw the magazine on the ground and picked up a catalogue that said "Bewitching a Husband: 7 steps."

"Pansy, will you stop touching my neck!" Theodore suddenly said. "I've got to read over my essay. You know how McGonagall is!"

"What are you talking about?" Pansy mumbled, distracted, as she looked at a particularly descriptive picture that showed how to deal with randy husbands.

"I said, stop picking at my neck!" Theodore said, his eyes still on his essay. "I refuse to look at you. You're being juvenile."

Pansy finally looked up. "I'm nowhere near you, Theo. You sure you're feeling OK?"

Theodore looked up. "Wait, if you're there. Then who's behind me?"

He turned his head and was met with a pair of shiny pointy teeth floating in mid-air.

"Wanna feel my fangs?" the teeth said.

"ARGHHHHH! VAMPIRE IN THE DUNGEONS!"

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Author's Note: Ok I think I've gone a little bit whacko with this story.


	11. Captured in a Coffin

Author's Note: Right, so whining and lamenting will get me nowhere so here's the follow-up to the last chapter. Again, I apologize for the last chapter's whining and self-pity.

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Feel my Fangs

Chapter Eleven – Captured in a Coffin

Annoying Slytherins and getting them worked up against each other can be a fun pastime, as long as one doesn't get caught.

Harry leaned on a wall, catching his breath. He sneaked a peak around the corner. The corridor of the seventh floor was devoid of people. His back still glued to the wall, Harry made his way to the entrance of the room of requirement. He kept looking back and forth nervously, for he did not want to be discovered just yet.

As he was pacing in front of the wall, muttering furiously 'a place to hide, a place to hide,' Harry heard voices around the corner.

"He must be there! Where else would he be? That's where he used to have his little defence club."

Harry recognized the voice as that of professor McGonagall. Betrayed by his ex-head of house, Harry anxiously waited for a door to appear.

By the time Harry heard a pair of feet turning the corner, most of his body had already entered the room of requirement. He slammed the door shut and wished for the room to become locked to all except himself. Hopefully, he could wait them out. And if not, he'd think of something then.

"He's locked himself in!" the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt said.

"We must get him out," Dumbledore said. "There are many forces after him after the horror perpetuated at the ministry."

"Harry, you must come out!" McGonagall addressed Harry, who was nervously looking at the doorknob rattle, wondering if the magic of the room was going to hold against three experienced wizards. "You've been charged for murder, uprising and treason. We can help you!"

"I somehow doubt your sincerity. If I recall, last time, you threw me in a dungeon and waited for vampire exterminators to arrive," Harry snorted. "I'm staying right where I am, thank you very much."

"Tell us what you did with Hermione Granger?!" Kingsley said sharply, his patience waning. "You—" He was shushed by both McGonagall and Dumbledore.

"Hey I just got a cup of fresh blood! It's good human blood too. I wonder where the room of requirement gets it. Do you think it just steals it from surrounding people?" Harry said, taking a sip while ignoring the adults' rant.

The three adults outside clutched their neck nervously before resuming banging on the door.

"The ministry knows you're hiding in Hogwarts!" Kingsley threatened. "You should give yourself up or we'll have to employ more drastic methods."

"Please, Harry, there are methods to diminish your vampire traits," Dumbledore said. "We can help you become human again."

"I think I have more humane traits than you do, you old goat," Harry said. "See, you're an animal. At least I'm a dark creature, so technically you're inferior to me, right?"

"Harry, you're parents did not give up their lives to have you become some sort of dark lord!" McGonagall said sternly. "Your mother and your father would turn in their graves if they knew what you were up to."

"I daresay they'll like that for a change," Harry said, resuming his blood sipping. "I wonder if I can find some blood-flavored candy…"

"Dumbledore, the boy is clearly not listening," Kingsley said. "He is a danger to the students and the populace in general. We must force our way in and take him into the ministry's custody."

Harry heard Dumbledore sigh. "This is your last chance, Harry. Will you turn yourself in? I promise I can tone down your sentence."

"…What part of no do you not understand?"

There was silence outside and then: "You may proceed as you wish, auror," Harry heard Dumbledore say. Harry bit his lip and waved his wand to add extra charms on the door—just in case, the room's magic failed. He hoped it was enough. He had acted all high and mighty, but the truth is that he only had a fifth year's education. Anything he didn't know he had to look through a book. His left fang pierced through his lower lip as he paced in front of the rattling door, trying to remember more locking charms and failing miserably.

"I thought I was supposed to be so cooool, now that I had vampire powers," Harry said to himself sarcastically. "Obviously being fast and strong has no use when you're cornered in a stupid little room and can't think of locking charms."

He punched the wall angrily. He barely produced a bent but it got him thinking. He felt the wall with his hand and further prodded the material with a few well-aimed kicks.

"If the entrance is blocked, then create another one…" Harry muttered to himself. He pulled his wand out and stepped back from the wall.

One thing that bothered him was that the room of requirement didn't exactly exist in the physical sense. So if he blasted his way out of the room, would he end up in some sort of limbo or parallel plane?

"What the hell did I use at the vampire lair last time?" he asked himself. "Meh. I'm super Harry, so something is bound to happen." He aimed his wand.

BLAST!! The wall crumbled and dust flew all over the place, obscuring Harry's vision. Harry shut his eyes firmly and gripped his wand. There was now a newly made hole in the room of requirement. The one problem was that Harry wasn't the one who had created it.

Harry heard a yell of "He's in the corner!" which was followed by a surge of spells that you just can't avoid or block when you can't see a thing and when there are three walls and a bunch of wizards between you and the exit. The world's first wizard vampire, bloody murderer, Hogwarts dropout and evil dark creature, Harry, was caught.

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Harry opened his eyes to be bathed in utter darkness. He fidgeted but was unable to get out of the chains that bound his extremities to both ends of whatever he was being held in. Using his elbows and his knees, Harry tried to bump his way around his cage. It was rather difficult as he was lying down and was able to move only as far as about two inches.

He figured he was in a rectangular box of metal as the sides clang when he bumped his head on the cover of the box. Continuing to feel his way around, he further realized that this was no regular box; it was a metal coffin. A coffin designed to hold him for a very long time.

"Until I run out of blood and dry up and turn to dust?" Harry eyes widened in the darkness. "No, no, there'll be a trial. I'll be able to escape then…They can't possibly leave me here for the rest of my immortal days!?"

"And that's exactly what they're going to do," the imp in the back of Harry's head said. "What else were you expecting after organizing that uprising and killing so many people!"

"But I was trying to make the world a better place," Harry retorted. "I wanted to have equal rights for all dark creatures!"

"That's not how they saw it," the imp said.

"I'm their savior, they won't dare leave me here, with Voldemort still running around."

"You became a even greater danger than Voldemort," the imp said matter-of-factly. "You were an unknown variable. They don't know what wizard vampires can do. They do know the extent, however formidable, of Voldemort's powers. You outlived your usefulness, kiddo."

"That can't be…" Harry said. "I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic."

"My, you're incredibly slow and hard-head today, aren't you," the imp in the back of Harry's head said.

"Denial and looking for motives will get me nowhere," Harry agreed with himself forcefully, refusing to panic even more. "But I seriously can't think of a way of getting myself out of here without a wand."

"Accidental magic," the imp said.

"Right, but I'm not scared or angry enough."

"Oh you will be, just wait until the blood lust hits and you realize that you'll never be able to feed again. Your mind will be alert as you're body slowly deteriorates and decomposes. I can't wait to see your expression when you realize that all that's left of you is a couple of degenerated brain cells."

"Hey, you're like me, in the back of my head," Harry said angrily. "Aren't you supposed to help me?"

The imp was silent.

"I blame my increasing loony-ness on my mounting claustrophobia," Harry muttered to himself. "I wonder if I can chew my way out?"

Several attempts later, Harry was still chained up, lying inside his metal coffin and getting both hungrier and colder. His fangs were feeling somewhat sore too. Obviously they were only good to rip the sweet flesh off a person's neck.

"Holy fuck, I really am going to rot here."

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Almost a decade later.

"I'm telling you, this is worth big money!" the woman said to her partner as they sifted through the antique furniture, the high mirrors and the strange toys all around the dusty room. "The place is guarded so heavily. There's bound to be some treasure! The old coot's been around for ages and is filthy rich."

"Right, so please explain to me why we've only found skulls with abnormal long teeths and a room full of old man memorabilia?" her partner hissed angrily while looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation. "I promised the guys I hired they'd get a cut of whatever we found. If there's nothing, then who knows what they might do!"

"Relax," the woman stopped at wall from which was hanging a huge portrait of a fat lady. "Look behind this painting."

Her partner beckoned at two of the men who went and pushed off the painting. The fat lady let out a small squeal.

"Did you hear something?" the woman's partner said nervously. "I think I heard a noise from there…"

"You're imagining things, you doofus-brain," the woman said, her eyes on the two men who were struggling with the weight of the portrait. "Hey, you two, be careful with that portrait! It's probably worth more that both your lives!"

A fifth person made his way into the room. "Hey I got the dynamite, did you—" He stopped and stared along with the four others at the circular entrance, blocked by a huge wooden cross, which itself was wrapped in garlic and smaller golden crosses.

"What the hell is wrong with your employer?" the woman's partner said. "Has he got a vampire paranoia thing or what?"

"He's peculiar, is all I can say," the woman frowned at the cross. "It's probably proof of his upcoming dementia. You two there, get the cross off."

Grumbling, the two men removed the garlic and the huge cross. As they worked, they pocketed a few of the golden crosses.

The doorway now cleared of the cross and other obstructions was still barred by several locking apparatus.

"Hey get your dynamite up."

It didn't take long for a loud 'boom to be heard' and dust to spread all over the place.

The man slipped on the liquid spilling onto the floor and slammed his head on the coffin. Stumbling, he pulled himself up using the coffin as leverage and slipped again. He fell, his back painfully hitting the metal coffin. His eyes had shut in pain and when he opened them again, it was to the sight of sharp pikes coming down from the ceiling.

The pikes struck him through the chest and the stomach. He let out a gurgling sound and blood poured out of his mouth and his pierced body parts. Unbeknownst, to the others who watched in horror, his blood was slowly being siphoned into the coffin, leaving the top once again spotless.

"What the fuck is that," the other man screamed. "You never told us there'd be fucking booby traps!"

Staring in abject revulsion and fear at the fellow who had just gotten impaled by pikes dropped on top of him, the other man backed out into a doorway lining the wall of the coffin room—and was swiftly crushed by a descending chain door. The door went up and down, each time, squishing more of the man until no more sounds were heard from the mess that used to be a human body. When the door finally went up and stayed there, the man wasn't much more than a pile of bloody gook with splattered organs mixed with broken bones.

"Shit, shit, shit," the woman said, her eyes glued to what seemed to be a floating eyeball. "I didn't realize the old man was so sadistic."

"Understatement of the century," her partner said, his eyes fixated on the torn-up man lying on the coffin. "This isn't sadism, this is the old man trying to protect his treasure! It must be bloody worth it!"

The woman turned her head to look at her partner, her eyes wide. "You think he's protecting something? I think there's something mighty dangerous in that coffin!"

"That's just a trick to make us leave," her partner said. "Hey dynamite-kid, get the body off the coffin, we're going to take the coffin back."

"I'm so excited at what's in there," the man said, his eyes bulging. He rubbed in hands in glee. The woman just shook her head at him in disgust before heading over to help the other man with removing the coffin.

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They managed to undo the straps holding onto the metal coffin and once that was done, moving the coffin became an easier task. They made their way out of the safe and out of the building, eager to get out of the cursed place.

They stuffed the coffin in the back of the mini-van and left rapidly. They reached an abandoned warehouse with a large field and loaded the coffin onto a small airplane.

They were flying over the Atlantic when the unsuspecting man skilled with dynamites decided he wanted to take a peak into the coffin, hoping to get some treasures before the woman and her partner.

"Hello, you wee little coffin," he said, as he tried to pull out the screws holding the cover down. "What treasures are you hiding in there?"

He managed to hurt himself and droplets of blood fell onto the coffin. The man watched in amazement as the blood was quickly sucked into the coffin.

"What the fuck?" he continued to remove the screws. He opened the coffin.

He didn't have time to yell. He waved his arms in vain as he face was eaten away by some corpse with surprisingly sharp teeth. He eventually fell limp.

His body half dried-up, his mouth covered with human blood, the corpse licked his fangs. He threw the chewed up muggle on the ground and advanced towards the control room where the other two muggles were holed up.

"Saved by a bunch of muggle grave robbers," Harry said, taking the remaining chains off his torso and his arms, as he stepped over the dead body. "How pathetic of me."

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Author's Note: I admit it. The last part was loosely based on a scene in 'Dracula 2000' a pathetic vampire movie with badly done romance and unfounded religious references. But I rather liked the scene where they stole the vampire's coffin because of the traps and the gore so I wiggled it into this story…


	12. The NotSo New World

Feel my Fangs

Chapter Twelve – The Not-So New World

Harry pushed open the door to the controller's room. The woman flying the plane ignored his entrance. She did not, however, ignore her partner's scream of surprise and then of pain when Harry sucked him dry. She turned her head to Harry and seized him up, her hands still busy with the plane's controls.

"You look rotten, Harry," she said, whipping her blond hair back. "I've stocked up on blood in the back of the plane so you really didn't have to kill Moe. I assumed you disposed of poor Jamie too. May they rest in peace. They were good grave robbers."

Harry stared at the blond woman, still trying to process what she was saying. The fresh blood had regenerated most of his brain but he'd been rotting away for the last ten years so processing information still took some time—especially the surprising stuff like the woman flying the plane.

"Luna?" Harry said. "You're the mastermind behind this 'escape' of mine? Why?"

"Oh, for several reasons," she said. "The ministry's been killing off crumple-horned snorkacks and wouldn't listen to my pleas that they weren't dangerous. So I thought I'd bring you back from the dead and they would have a worthier foe to fight and leave the snorkacks alone."

"But it's good to see you Harry, I would have come earlier but I didn't know where they were keeping you," Luna rambled on. "I searched for a couple of years before I realized they had shipped you to America. Imagine that."

"Wait, I need to hear more about this," he said. "Where did you say you put those blood packs? I've been starving for something like fifty years now?"

"It's only been ten years, Harry, and you've been decomposing for just as long. I'm surprised there's anything left of you but you've always been surprisingly resilient," Luna said, wrinkling her nose at him. "Ummph, the smell you emanate isn't exactly pleasing. The blood packs are in the back of the plane in a small white cooler. Please hurry and regenerate yourself. I don't think my nose can take much more of this."

"Sorry," Harry said shortly as he stepped out of the control room. "You try living in a coffin for ten years. I must have counted sheep up to six billion-something before I fell into my comatose state."

Luna chuckled and sent the plane veering into a cloud.

"Drink in haste because we've got to apparate out of here," she said to Harry as he went out the control room.

"Why? Isn't this a safe place to talk?" Harry said as he opened the cooler and rummaged through various snacks and drinks looking for the pouches containing the conserved blood.

"My flying prowess isn't exactly up to date," Luna said.

"When was the last time you flew an airplane?" Harry asked. He finally found a blood pack and ripped the corner off with his teeth.

As he was bringing the pouch to his lips, Luna answered him. "This is my first time flying."

Had Harry had anything in his mouth, he would have spat it out. As he had yet begun to drink the blood, Harry gagged on air.

"I rather like flying," Luna continued, as she pressed various buttons around her. "But I think that every minute we spend more in the air increases the chances that we're going to crash and plunge into the infinite abyss of the ocean."

"I understand," Harry gulped nervously. "I'll drink up fast."

"I'll make sure that the airplane is heading down after we leave the aircraft," Luna said. "It'll cover our tracts and the fish can dispose of Moe and Jamie's bodies for us."

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Harry and Luna, both covered in dark and heavy cloaks, apparated in an area where Luna supposedly lived.

"Why are you living in this…swamp?" Harry asked carefully, not wanting to offend his rescuer.

"You've missed a lot since you've been buried," Luna said, as she walked around a murky pond surrounded by shrubs, weeds and oddly shaped trees. "I'll fill you in once we get to my place."

Luna stopped in front of a large tree whose trunk was hidden by thorny bushes. She pushed the thorns aside, earning her a couple of scratches. The trunk was brown with a tree's aged texture—nothing out of normal. Stretching her arm, Luna knocked on the trunk in a distinct pattern.

"Why didn't you use the fidelius?" Harry asked, quickly understanding what she was doing.

"Too complicated," Luna said succinctly as she resumed pounding in a different set of patterns. "Not many can cast it."

Harry wondered what could have Luna on edge, she who, he remembered, could face dozen of Death Eaters and still smile serenely in her odd detached way. Harry startled when a piece of wood from the trunk swung open.

"Welcome back, miss Luna," a voice said, coming from below. Looking down, Harry saw a small girl of about four holding the trapdoor open and waiting for them to climb in.

"Her daughter? Or a really young servant?" Harry thought as he climbed into the tree behind Luna. The inside of the tree revealed itself to be large set of rooms.

"The wonder of magic will never cease," Harry thought, not even trying to figure out how so many rooms could fit inside a tree. He gave his cloak to the girl as Luna had just done. "Luna, who is the little girl?"

"A product of my experiments," Luna said shortly as she marched into a room filled with tubes, pots and glass containers holding various things unknown to Harry.

"You created her?" Harry said, skeptically. "Is she your daughter?"

"In a way," Luna said while fixing one the tubes in her long assortment of potion experiments. "Animation spells are a branch of magic I've been working on ever since I was exiled."

"She's not real?" Harry asked, incredulous. "When were you exiled?"

"So many questions, so little time," Luna smiled, her face distorted behind several layers of glass. "She's made out of wood but I animated her. I got the idea from this story Daddy used to read to me, Pinocchio. Do you know it?"

She didn't wait for an answer from Harry and continued talking. "Anyhow, the implication of my exile is a subject I wanted to discuss with you."

Harry was bursting with questions but signaled Luna to proceed with her explanation. Luna, who had begun to stir a purple mixture in a pot, looked up at Harry.

"When you were captured, the ministry clapped down on the rest of us a hand more firm and cruel than ever before. Any opposition was torn apart by both the aurors and the prophet. Many were charged of treason and propaganda. People turned against each other, denouncing neighbors, friends and even sometimes family," Luna shifted her gaze onto a family portrait. "I didn't mean to betray Daddy, but I let my mouth get away from me. The Quibbler was seized and Daddy was taken away. He was executed two weeks later."

"And you?"

"I was underage at the time and was put under surveillance. I quickly escaped and, well, here I am now," Luna said.

"I'm sorry, Luna," Harry said. He felt partly responsible for her loss. He was the one who had caused the uprising and upheavals of the magical world after all.

"What for?" Luna said. "You weren't the one who gave him away accidentally, or the one who tortured him, or the dementor who sucked his soul away. But enough said already. I have to talk to you about the crumple-horned snorkacks and the other endangered magical creatures Daddy and I were protecting."

"You mean they exist?" Harry said, not really believing her. He took a cup of tea that was offered to him by the mechanical little girl.

"Of course they do," Luna said matter-of-factly, waving away the little girl she had created. "Why else would the ministry be hunting them down? Harry, the ministry has been sitting on its bum for the last five years or so. They are bored and are taking it out on the magical creatures, killing them into extinction."

"You mean, the ministry is doing this out of entertainment," Harry spat out, his tea wavering dangerously in his hand. "They managed to be rid of all external threats? How could that be? Have they become competent in the years I wasn't around?"

"Maybe not competent, but they were thorough with their search to destroy any thread of resistance. Now everyone's too scared to do anything!" Luna said, her eyes dark. "Which is why I've been hiding here for the last six years or so. It certainly made it difficult for me to acquire information on where the ministry and Dumbledore had hidden your body. In fact, until a year ago, I wasn't sure if you were even alive."

"I still wonder why they didn't kill me when they had the opportunity," Harry said, eyebrows knit. "Except for me defeating Voldemort and all…Nevertheless, I proved to be a bigger threat than Voldemort after all, so they locked me up. Why didn't the ministry kill me after I outlived my usefulness? And what of Voldemort by the way?"

"The answer to you first question lies within the two who made the decision at the time. The first is Scrimgeour, who was appointed Minister of Magic after you killed Fudge. The second is Dumbledore," Luna said. "Unfortunately, both are deceased. Scrimgeour died of incurable heart troubles and Dumbledore fell to treachery."

Harry's face fell. He had just lost two sources of answers. He also didn't think the old bugger would have given up so soon. Despite the late animosity between Dumbledore and Harry, the old coot had given him a modicum of guidance when he was younger. Harry didn't mourn the lost of the man, but of all the information held in Dumbledore's head.

"As for your second question, that's another mystery for you to solve," Luna said, her face turned towards a potion that was boiling green steam. She added some herbs into it, turning the mixture a sky blue.

"What happened to Voldemort?" Harry pressed, his cold tea long forgotten.

Luna blew on the potion and lessened the fire before turning back to Harry. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. "Five years after your capture, Voldemort and several of his minions disappeared completely. As of yet, we are unsure whether the Dark Lord is dead at the hands of his companions or if they're all staying low, biding their time before launching a new attack on the wizarding world and the Ministry."

Harry was silent. The mechanical girl, as Harry had begun to call her, walked into the room jerkily, and tended to some of the plants Luna kept in the lighted section of her laboratory. Luna looked at her fondly before resuming her story on Voldemort.

"His sudden disappearance was quite strange and raised many questions," Luna said while pointing to a watering can for the mechanical girl to use. "And like you said, it was also one of the reason you were left buried in your coffin. They didn't need you as a 'savior' anymore."

Harry pondered on the thoughts that hammered the inside of his head. "This is all very confusing," he finally said. "Everything's changed and yet nothing has changed. What of the vampire clans, Luna?"

At this, Luna's face became shaded. "You must understand, Harry, the ministry was very unhappy with the vampires after what conspired on that fateful day. Your storming of the ministry with dark creatures didn't exactly endear the vampires to the ministry or the general population."

Harry waited for more, yet at the same time, he dreaded to hear the fate of the vampire clans.

"They were exterminated, Harry, to the very last clan. I told you the ministry was thorough," Luna said with a tone of finality. She got up and went to help the mechanical girl who was having difficulty reaching the plants and herbs on a higher shelf.

"That's impossible," Harry said, breaking the silence. He twisted his hands on his shirt. "The ministry didn't have the auror forces or the vampire hunters to back them up for such an expedition."

"I never said they were hunted down individually," Luna said as she poured water over a particularly vivid black flower with a red stem. "The method was slow, nasty and treacherous—poison."

"The blood potion," Harry gasped as his eyes widened in remembrance. "Snape must have perfected it and the ministry somehow got ahold of it and administered it to the general population."

Luna nodded. "It was put into the water system. A simple and effective method of making sure everyone got it. Even the animals that drank from the rivers had remnants of potion in their blood. Every vampire who drank from a being that had been exposed to the potion was infected. They died after days or weeks of pain, depending on how strong they were. The others began to fear drinking blood, for who knew who was infected. The ministry managed to cut off the vampires from their main supply of food as well as their secondary one."

"Unable to drink wizard, muggle or even animal blood," Harry murmured in horror. Something occurred to Harry and he marched up to Luna. "I drank the blood of those muggles when I was awaken. Am I infected with their blood now?"

"Nope, like I said, you were imprisoned in America and the thieves I recruited were clean," Luna said as she motioned to the mechanical girl to prepare dinner. "The potion cannot dilute across the entire ocean. And only our ministry is crazy enough to try to exterminate the vampires."

"So I'm not the last of my kind," Harry sighed, both in sorrow and in relief.

"You are the first of your kind, actually," Luna said as she wiped her hands on a towel. "If the rumor I heard about you retaining your wizard powers is true."

Harry almost smiled. "Do you know of any vampire survivors?" he finally asked.

"Only those who left Europe or fled far enough to places where the water was free of the potion," Luna waved her hand to the door. "It'll do you no good to dawdle on things that have already occurred. Come to the kitchen, dinner will be ready soon."

"You mechanical girl can cook too?" Harry said, impressed. "She is pretty amazing."

"Of course she's amazing," Luna smiled. "I modeled her after me."

Harry followed Luna to the kitchen, leaving thoughts of ministries, vampire clans and deadly potions for later.

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"You're taking this all rather well," Luna noted to Harry as they sipped on coffee in her living room.

"Well, once you resign yourself to living the rest of your eternal life in a coffin, you'll take things as calmly as me. I had nothing to do but think for the first five years or so," Harry said. "But don't think I'm not angry, I've just decided to channel my anger into productiveness. I'll get my revenge, don't be mistaken about that."

"And once again, the boy with the lightning scar will lead the wizarding world into turmoil and danger," Luna said, eerily. "I need you to do something for me, Harry."

"Nothing is free in this world," Harry said. "You must have needed my help badly for you to seek my burial site all the way to America."

He nodded for her to proceed with her request.

"I need you to stir trouble at the ministry," Luna said simply.

"I was going to do that anyway," Harry smiled, bringing his steaming warm coffee to his lips. "But I believe your intention is that my appearance will distract the ministry from their current extermination of you protégés—the magical creatures that include your precious crumple-horned snorkacks."

"It is not the only reason I looked for you but it is one of them," Luna acquiesced. "Are you angry I want to use your feared face and your infamous name?"

Harry was silent for a while but his answer was not hostile. "No, I am not angry. Had it not been for you, I would still be rotting away in that cursed coffin.

"I'll show my face at the ministry and cause a little ruckus," Harry added. "But I will leave after that, for I have to track down some acquaintances. Will a ministry in uproar be enough for you?"

"For now," Luna smiled, standing up and putting hers and Harry's empty coffee cups on a tray. She handed the tray to the mechanical girl who walked jerkily towards the kitchen holding the tray at a funny angle.

They followed the mechanical girl into the kitchen and Luna handed Harry several pouches of conserved blood.

"Where do you get this blood by the way?" Harry asked her. "I thought everything was infected."

"This is artificially made blood," Luna said, smiling. "It is my greatest creation yet, after my little girl."

"How do you get all the nutrients in there?"

"This is neither the time nor the place to explain the complicated process that results in the blood," Luna said. "But drink it in peace, as it is free of disease, infection and potions."

Harry thanked Luna.

"I harbored several vampires as they were dying," Luna explained, a touch of sadness in her voice.

Soon enough, Harry had a pack of necessary things as well as several pouches of artificial blood. Luna accompanied him to the clearing where they had appeared earlier during the day.

"I'll contact you via my patronus," Luna said as Harry prepared to apparate.

"Will do," Harry said shortly. He then paused and asked her: "What do you do, Luna, with your free time?"

"I run the Quibbler Underground," Luna smiled teethily. "It is the legacy of my father and the means by which I can fight back the despots that are slowly killing the magical world."

Harry returned her smile albeit a less enthusiastic one and bade his goodbyes before disapparating.

Luna looked at the spot Harry had just left, a sad expression slowly spreading on her face.

"May you be prepared to face the newly revealed wolves of this current world, Harry Potter, for they are cunning and sly," Luna blessed Harry silently.

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Author's Note: I don't know if it was too cliché to have Luna save Harry but I like her. In addition, Hermione's sort of dead and Ginny has always been sort of useless, so Luna got the job. Also I'm not sure if Harry should have been angrier about his imprisonment. Opinions are welcome, by the way.


	13. Dark Creature Extermination Expedition

Feel my Fangs

Chapter 13 – Dark Creature Extermination Expedition

A party of fifty men and their captain were at the edge of the forest south of London.

"DCEE? You all ready?" the man commanding the expedition yelled. "DEECEEE?"

"Yes, sir!" the Dark Creature Extermination Expedition troops yelled back.

"We'll be heading into the forest and then you know what you have to do," the captain said. "Don't be fooled into thinking that the creatures are nice ones. They hide under illusions and don't be taken in by the image of a young one."

"Yes, sir!"

"Alright, let's go!"

They entered the forest cautiously. They had planned this for several weeks. This was the last fortress of the dark creatures—a valley hidden amidst endless acres of forest.

They were here to kill every single being. They were the elite of the elite, men who had trained together for years. They knew each other well and they knew their formations well. Pity they did not know their enemy.

Unbeknownst to them, a wizard-vampire was currently exploring and examining what remained of Lord Sythe's hidden valley.

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Harry stood at he cliff where he and Paula, the vampire analyst, had stood so long ago. Since then, the trees and the bushes had grown thicker and wilder, betraying the fact that none had stepped into the area for a very long time.

Harry threw a stick onto the invisible bridge and was delighted to find it still standing. Harry walked to the stick and threw it away so that others would not be able to find the invisible pathway. He then began the long and torturous walk to Sythe's castle. There were twists and turns in the invisible pathway so that even if one found it, they wouldn't necessarily know which way to go.

One might think the castle was in the middle of the valley, but Harry knew better. The castle was actually a bit on the left such that if you didn't know where it was, you might walk right past it and then spend the rest of your life looking for nothing in the valley and the surrounding forest.

Harry had been lucky the first time, as he had encountered Stanley the Dragon on the way and proceeded to make friends with him. A pet here, a piece of meat there and Stanley was only too happy to show Harry the way to Sythe's fortress.

Harry laughed as he remembered how Paula and Sythe had thought he had fought with Stanley and managed to tame him.

"As if the stupid steamer dragon could ever be tamed," Harry muttered loudly.

He was thanked for his comment with a swift swipe of a blue spiked tail targeted at his legs.

Harry instinctively avoided it by jumping over it.

"Ah, the joys of having vampire reflexes," Harry thought, as he landed and immediately proceeded to climb into a tree in order to be able to be face to face with the blue creature.

"Hey Stanley," Harry said to the steam dragon. "Still alive you old dog."

The dragon nudged Harry affectionately with its nose.

"Hey don't mistreat the dead!"

The dragon snorted and puffed out smoke indignantly. As he was about to swing his heavy tail at Harry, Stanley's left ear perked up. The dragon turned to face the left side of the forest. Someone—many someones actually—were approaching at a high speed.

Harry stopped petting Stanley and turned to the area where the disturbance was coming from. Harry admitted that whatever was coming was good because they hardly made any of the usual noises that accompanied human troops—the jokes, the laughter, the grunting, the cursing and the loud stomping around. These were elite troops, trained to work in rough areas with no distinguishable roads, and in relative silence. These were assassination troops.

"Elite or not, I'm better than them," Harry whispered to Stanley. "I also have the advantage of the area. I know this place and the forest will provide cover."

"You can't fly away or they'll spot you and shoot you down, Stanley," Harry said to the dragon. "You'll have to trudge your way through the forest. Get into the caves and they won't be able to follow you once you're in the underground mazes."

Stanley nodded and quickly made his way out of the clearing he and Harry had been standing in.

Harry stood crouched on his branch, his wand in his hand. He could hear the small sounds that the troops were making as they approached. He waited for them; it would be another hour before they would get to his spot. Harry disliked waiting but if he had learned anything from his decade-long confinement in a coffin, it was patience.

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Harry had stopped fighting fair a long time ago. He now hit without warning and slashed from behind. The elite troop thought they were under the attack of some invisible force. Harry moved too fast for them. They saw his shadow and sent a volley of spells. They ended up hitting their own comrades. It was an unfortunate thing that they had used cutting and bludgeoning spells instead of the usual 'stupefy.' The teamwork fell apart and each tried to prove his superiority.

"They're supposed to be able to work together," Harry frowned. "I didn't realize they were so mentally vulnerable."

As he was running amongst them causing havoc, Harry had lightly touched their thoughts and had tweaked the animal instinct of each man to want to be the head of the group. The fight became a wizard melee and Harry returned to his seating position in the tree.

"Well, this is sort of anti-climactic," Harry said cheerfully to the tree. "But it's still an amusing spectacle."

He watched gleefully as one wizard killed his friend with a well-placed 'diffindo.' He winced when one got a precious limb crushed. Soon the elite had been decimated. The last standing man succumbed to his wounds and bled to death, as Harry twirled his wand.

"Well more food for Stanley," Harry said. "Dragons' aren't vegan right?"

Harry hopped down from his hiding place and strode over the desolate area where fifty men had been mentally induced to fight each other to death.

"If Voldemort knew the power of mental persuasion, he would have had the wizarding world under his thumb a long time ago," Harry said to nobody in particular. "In some cases, it's good thing that Voldemort thinks that wizards are above all other species and underestimates all the other creatures."

"I do wonder what happened to the old snake-face."

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As Stanley cleaned up the remains of the Dark Creature Extermination Expedition, Harry walked up to Lord Sythe's hidden fortress.

He slipped in through a broken window (and there were a lot of those) and entered the castle.

The first thing that hit him was the repugnant smell of decaying flesh. Pinching his extra-sensitive nose, Harry slowly advanced into the hallway, his wand pointed in front of him. He walked into an unlocked room and was only half-surprised to see the walls stained with blood.

In the centre of the room, lay Sythe, bathed in a pool of dried blood. He had scratched his eyes out and his ripped his own throat out, it appeared. His body was in various stages of decomposition.

"Is this what the blood potion does to you?" Harry said, sticking his wand into Sythe's eyehole. "Hey, you alive?"

"…was never alive," Sythe's tongue wiggled. "Take your wand out of my eye."

"Mmm. So the Lord of Vampires has been reduced to flesh and pulp, his thirst the cause of his own demise," Harry said as he wiped the congealing blood on Sythe's tunic. "You did this to yourself, the eyes and all. You couldn't kill yourself."

"I fear death," Sythe finally said as what was left of his throat vibrated. "That's why I became vampire in the first place."

"I know the pain of going without blood," Harry added. "But I never wanted to die."

"It burns, it burns," Sythe said as if he were talking to himself. "I can't die but I can hurt."

"You've come to the end of your immortality," Harry whispered to his old mentor as he raised his wand.

"Please…"

"Diffindo!" Harry said, taking pity on Sythe. Harry watched as the severed head of Lord Sythe rolled to the other side of the room.

Harry poked his wand in Sythe eyehole once more, but this time, Sythe was silent.

Harry conjured a coffin and deposited Sythe's remains in it. He sealed the coffin as well as the room it was in.

"You'll be able to rest eternally," Harry said, in a somewhat cheesy way. Harry didn't want to explore the rest of the castle so he left the way he came in.

Harry stood in front of the fortress and looked up at the towers and the broken windows.

"I'll return the castle to its original glory after I get rid of all those bothersome adversaries," Harry promised before turning away.

With that, Harry whistled for Stanley who came trudging down the valley. Harry hopped onto his back and told him to leave for Diagon Alley. Harry had unfinished business to take care of, including that promise to Luna to stir up trouble.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Next chapter, meet the Boy – spawn of Narcissa's indiscretion.


	14. Spawn of Malfoy

Feel my Fangs

Chapter 14 – Spawn of Malfoy

Harry walked in the streets of Diagon Alley. The streets were crowded but everyone moved as if they were in a great hurry. In these times of oppression, it was best not to linger to long in the street.

Amidst the crowd of people a cloaked blond slowly swaggered his way to where Harry was standing.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't recognize you after ten years, Potter," the nasal voice of Draco Malfoy made its way to Harry's ears. "You haven't changed at all. Still short and with that mop of a hair."

Harry bristled in indignation and would have lashed out at Malfoy and reduced the little ferret into pulp had it not been for his own curiosity.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted through gritted teeth. "Tell me why I shouldn't just eat you right here and now?"

"Because you and I are the only two not simpering in fear of the big bad ministry," Malfoy said.

"You bought your way out."

"And so I did," Malfoy shrugged. "You don't scare me, Potter."

"I've been considered dead for the last ten years," Harry finally said, as Malfoy wasn't going to get into the subject on his own. "I'm also dangerous."

"The famous wizard-vampire," Malfoy sneered, surprising Harry with his knowledge of Harry's nature. "I have access to Ministry files the ministry doesn't even know about."

"You knew my location?"

"I'm the one who provided the Looney girl with it," Malfoy said.

"Why would you of all people help me?"

"So the Dark Lord can kill you himself," Malfoy replied. "Well, I passed on the message."

Harry frowned. He startled when a small figure appeared behind Malfoy.

"Potter, meet the Boy," Malfoy drawled, pointing at the small, blond, nine-year-old standing behind him. "He's family."

"The Boy?" Harry lifted an eyebrow. "What's his name?"

"Father has refused any attempts to name him. As such, he is the Boy for now," Malfoy said, throwing a mixed look of contempt and pity at his younger brother.

"Does this have to do anything with your mother's excursions into other people's bed?" Harry asked cautiously.

"That's my mother's business, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "If you must know, the Boy is indeed my half brother. A bastard of the worst kind because my Father cannot throw him out without damaging the Malfoy name."

The Boy hardly blinked as he listened to Malfoy spout the ugly truth of his birth and his miserable childhood. He was used to it after all.

"Well since you're here, Potter, do me a favour and look after the brat," Malfoy said. "I have some errands to do and I'm sick of having him trail me like a puppy. People might think we're related."

"You are related," Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, leave him with me."

Harry and the Boy watched as Malfoy quickly walked into Knockturn Alley, glancing around him as if he suspected someone to stop him.

"Isn't he even a little bit worried that he just left his brother with a infamous vampire with a murderous streak?" Harry asked the Boy.

"I think that's the idea: to get me killed," the Boy said, with a touch of bitterness beyond his physical years.

"You're still his half-brother from his mother's side."

"I'm also a half-blood. Mother consorted with a muggleborn dancer. Lucius was livid when he discovered. When he's in a good mood, he calls me Narcissa's indiscretion or ignores me, but when he's not…" The boy shuddered.

Harry bent down to look at the Boy in the eyes and thinking how similar their upbringing was.

"Are the Malfoy's really still working with Voldemort?" Harry finally asked. "I thought Voldemort had disappeared."

"Or so the public thinks," the Boy said, as if it were obvious. "My family are still in touch with the Dark Lord. In fact you should strike now as Voldemort is at his weakest."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked.

"Because if you kill Voldemort than I'll have an easier time to get rid of certain members of my esteemed family," the Boy said.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know that it is I who messed up the potion that Lucius gave to your Mother in order to stop her affairs?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, if I hadn't tempered with that potion so long ago, you would not have to go through your life like this one," Harry said to the Boy in a sincere apology. "Know that you saved your biological father from being castrated at the least."

"And I might never have been born," the Boy replied. "It doesn't matter, I have long stopped to try to put blame on the people that brought me into this world."

"You're blaming yourself now?"

"No, I'm surviving," the Boy said. "I'll get my revenge when the time comes."

"I hear you."

"My life is a curse but only so long as Lucius is alive," the Boy murmured to Harry, his eyes flashing. "Just remember that you owe me one for partly being the cause of my miserable life. That's all I ask of you."

"I will do anything that is in my power," Harry promised.

"Very well," the Boy said in frigid tones that showed the fact that he had to grow up early. "I will contact you when I will be in need of your services."

"I thought I was supposed to watch over you until Malfoy gets back."

The Boy snorted. "He won't be back. He's hoping that you'll eat me or something similar."

"They're really trying to assassinate you?" Harry's said.

"Yes, in a sense, because if neither Lucius or Draco are there to claim the title of Malfoy, I get it by default. As such, I'm a liability and a threat."

"I see, that clears up a lot of things," Harry said. "Well I'll continue my tour of Diagon Alley. You may contact me by owl. Goodbye, Black, and watch your back."

"Black?"

"Because if you can't take the name Malfoy, you are entitled to the name of the noble and pure family of Black on your mother's side."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," the Boy smiled slightly, as he headed down the street to look for his older brother.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry discreetly slipped into the phone booth that would lead him into the centre of the Ministry of Magic. It wasn't long before he was standing in the middle of the Atrium, the tag of "Mr Potty – Plumber" displayed on his nametag.

The Ministry secretary, thinking someone has sent for a plumber directed him to the sixth-floor washrooms. The pipes hadn't been repaired since Fudge's stint as Minister of Magic. It was rumoured that Fudge might have left some of his namesake behind when he had been thrown out of the Ministry.

Harry opened the door to the infamous washroom and fainted from the noxious gas accumulated from years of fermenting shit. The door shut closed behind him. The Ministry secretary had resumed toenail painting and had completely forgotten the plumber. No one had used the washroom in years and as such, no one realized that there was someone on the other side of the door.

Harry Potter died in the midst of the toxic fumes.

Voldemort made his comeback not long after and took over the Ministry. As he explored the sixth floor, he walked into the toxified washroom and also fell prey to Fudge's legacy.

Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy discovered the two bodies and planned their next move while lighting a smoke. The whole building exploded. The Boy inherited all Malfoy assets.

Peace was in the wizarding world again all thanks to Fudge and his bowel problems.

The End


	15. Spawn of Malfoy the real chapter

A/N: I solemnly swear that I will stop posting bogus ends like the one in the last chapter.

Feel my Fangs

Chapter 14 – Spawn of Malfoy (the real chapter)

Harry walked in the streets of Diagon Alley. The streets were crowded but everyone moved as if they were in a great hurry. In these times of oppression, it was best not to linger to long in the street.

Amidst the crowd of people a cloaked blond slowly swaggered his way to where Harry was standing.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't recognize you after ten years, Potter," the nasal voice of Draco Malfoy made its way to Harry's ears. "You haven't changed at all. Still short and with that mop of a hair."

Harry bristled in indignation and would have lashed out at Malfoy and reduced the little ferret into pulp had it not been for his own curiosity.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted through gritted teeth. "Tell me why I shouldn't just eat you right here and now?"

"Because you and I are the only two not simpering in fear of the big bad ministry," Malfoy said.

"You bought your way out."

"And so I did," Malfoy shrugged. "You don't scare me, Potter."

"I've been considered dead for the last ten years," Harry finally said, as Malfoy wasn't going to get into the subject on his own. "I'm also dangerous."

"The famous wizard-vampire," Malfoy sneered, surprising Harry with his knowledge of Harry's nature. "I have access to Ministry files the ministry doesn't even know about."

"You knew my location?"

"I'm the one who provided the Looney girl with it," Malfoy said.

"Why would you of all people help me?"

"So the Dark Lord can kill you himself," Malfoy replied. "Well, I passed on the message."

Harry frowned. He startled when a small figure appeared behind Malfoy.

"Potter, meet the Boy," Malfoy drawled, pointing at the small, blond, nine-year-old standing behind him. "He's family."

"The Boy?" Harry lifted an eyebrow. "What's his name?"

"Father has refused any attempts to name him. As such, he is the Boy for now," Malfoy said, throwing a mixed look of contempt and pity at his younger brother.

"Does this have to do anything with your mother's excursions into other people's bed?" Harry asked cautiously.

"That's my mother's business, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "If you must know, the Boy is indeed my half brother. A bastard of the worst kind because my Father cannot throw him out without damaging the Malfoy name."

The Boy hardly blinked as he listened to Malfoy spout the ugly truth of his birth and his miserable childhood. He was used to it after all.

"Well since you're here, Potter, do me a favour and look after the brat," Malfoy said. "I have some errands to do and I'm sick of having him trail me like a puppy. People might think we're related."

"You are related," Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, leave him with me."

Harry and the Boy watched as Malfoy quickly walked into Knockturn Alley, glancing around him as if he suspected someone to stop him.

"Isn't he even a little bit worried that he just left his brother with a infamous vampire with a murderous streak?" Harry asked the Boy.

"I think that's the idea: to get me killed," the Boy said, with a touch of bitterness beyond his physical years.

"You're still his half-brother from his mother's side."

"I'm also a half-blood. Mother consorted with a muggleborn dancer. Lucius was livid when he discovered. When he's in a good mood, he calls me Narcissa's indiscretion or ignores me, but when he's not…" The boy shuddered.

Harry bent down to look at the Boy in the eyes and thinking how similar their upbringing was.

"Are the Malfoy's really still working with Voldemort?" Harry finally asked. "I thought Voldemort had disappeared."

"Or so the public thinks," the Boy said, as if it were obvious. "My family are still in touch with the Dark Lord. In fact you should strike now as Voldemort is at his weakest."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked.

"Because if you kill Voldemort than I'll have an easier time to get rid of certain members of my esteemed family," the Boy said.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Do you know that it is I who messed up the potion that Lucius gave to your Mother in order to stop her affairs?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, if I hadn't tempered with that potion so long ago, you would not have to go through your life like this one," Harry said to the Boy in a sincere apology. "Know that you saved your biological father from being castrated at the least."

"And I might never have been born," the Boy replied. "It doesn't matter, I have long stopped to try to put blame on the people that brought me into this world."

"You're blaming yourself now?"

"No, I'm surviving," the Boy said. "I'll get my revenge when the time comes."

"I hear you."

"My life is a curse but only so long as Lucius is alive," the Boy murmured to Harry, his eyes flashing. "Just remember that you owe me one for partly being the cause of my miserable life. That's all I ask of you."

"I will do anything that is in my power," Harry promised.

"Very well," the Boy said in frigid tones that showed the fact that he had to grow up early. "I will contact you when I will be in need of your services."

"I thought I was supposed to watch over you until Malfoy gets back."

The Boy snorted. "He won't be back. He's hoping that you'll eat me or something similar."

"They're really trying to assassinate you?" Harry's said.

"Yes, in a sense, because if neither Lucius or Draco are there to claim the title of Malfoy, I get it by default. As such, I'm a liability and a threat."

"I see, that clears up a lot of things," Harry said. "Well I'll continue my tour of Diagon Alley. You may contact me by owl. Goodbye, Black, and watch your back."

"Black?"

"Because if you can't take the name Malfoy, you are entitled to the name of the noble and pure family of Black on your mother's side."

"Thank you, Harry Potter," the Boy smiled slightly, as he headed down the street to look for his older brother.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As he walked in the streets of Diagon Alley, Harry noted the new, the old and the abandoned. Despite familiar sightings such as the Quidditch shop and the bookstore, Harry found that the popular wizard hangout had degenerated into a miserable desolate area. Posters of the Ministry had long replaced the flashing colours and blinking signs.

Harry almost bristled in indignation at what the ministry posters advertised.

"I guess I should have expected it from them," he muttered to himself, his sharp fangs gnawing at his bottom lip, drawing blood. "A vampire genocide, extermination of all giants and now a werewolf hunt?"

Harry ripped the poster off the window of the shop, shredding into pieces. He shot a dirty look at a small man who had been staring at him. The man squeaked and quickly walked away.

Harry snorted. "Next thing you'll know, there'll be a witch hunt and we'll all go burn in hell. Oh wait—it's already happening."

Slipping his hood back on, Harry immersed himself into the dark morose crowd. Most people walked fast and didn't bother to stop. They conducted their business as if every second they spent outside of their home was dangerous. As Harry passed the wizarding bank, Gringotts seemed dour and faded in comparison to its past golden glory. Times were hard and even moneylenders suffered the toll.

Shaking his head at the misery surrounding him, Harry wandered into the centre of the Alley. The entrance from the Leaky Cauldron was situated there. The middle of the square, where a statue of a past minister had once resided, had been turned into a makeshift execution area. Several bodies littered the area. The vampire bodies were encased in glass as if to preserve their perpetual pain and to remind the citizens what happened to those who were different.

Harry was appalled to recognize some of the vampires. Amongst the impaled and mutilated bodies inside the glass, Harry found the old vampire from France. The first Elder Harry had amusingly harassed many many years before his imprisonment in the coffin.

In a fit of anger, Harry used his considerable vampire might and punched through the glass.

"If it hadn't been for that weakening potion, the vampires would have never been reduced to this," Harry raged silently as he picked through the glass shards. People's fear of the ministry won over their curiosity of the destruction of the Pedestal of Pain as the monument of dead vampires was secretly called. No one wanted the wrath of the Ministry on them.

Harry ignored the scurrying crowd and lifted his hand to the old vampire's face. As he was about to close the old man's perforated eyelid, Harry heard the telltale signs of a chase. His enhanced hearing allowed him to locate the chase several streets from Diagon Alley and into the asymmetrical disorganized streets of Knockturn Alley.

Harry looked at the dead vampires and muttered a fire spell. The monument burst into a light blue fire and the glass melted and the bodies crispened. The cleansing fire melded everything together and turned the Pedestal of Pain into white ash. But by then, Harry had long moved onto Knockturn Alley.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Standing idly by a wall, waiting for the chase to get to him, Harry tried to think of the repercussion of his disappearance and that of Voldemort. Harry had never really been involved in Ministry politics anyway so his presence—or lack of presence—would probably not have affected Ministry everyday dealings. Voldemort, on the other hand, required constant surveillance by several teams at the Ministry. His disappearance would mean that the Ministry could relocate the previous force into maybe more lucrative businesses, such as oppressing the weak, shifty deals and keeping the population in fear.

"That's one possibility," Harry surmised, "but something seems lacking. Like I'm missing a big piece in this mess of a puzzle."

Harry was about to tackle more of the theory when he caught sight of the approaching escapee and the assailants.

Sticking his head around the wall, Harry saw a young girl being chased by a number of cloaked men. His frown deepened a fraction when he noticed the small badge on the men's cloaks that identified them as aurors.

"Don't lose her!" a man with a deep voice yelled out. He seemed like the leader of the pack of aurors. "We need her to get her father to pay up."

Not only did aurors conduct shifty businesses of kidnapping and blackmail, they did so during the day and in public. No wonder the citizens were scared shitless of the Ministry's chaotic and ruthless ruling.

Harry debated whether to show up and save the day or to stay and watch in the shadows. He opted for the latter. There was no point for him blowing his cover in order to save one lone girl.

Harry watched the large men catch up to the little girl and tackle her. She was bound with a spell and thrown onto the back of a large brute of an auror.

"Yaxley, watch over that mudblood," the apparent leader said. "We don't want to lose her again."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Yaxley? Where have I heard that name before?"

Discretely following in the aurors' wake, Harry continued to repeat to himself the familiar name. Yaxley, Yaxley, Yaxley, Yaxley.

It wasn't long before the name and Death Eaters clicked in Harry's brain. Yaxley was a Death Eater. He had been present at Voldemort's resurrection in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.

"But what is a Death Eater doing, parading as an auror?" Harry asked before his eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit. Voldemort hasn't disappeared. He's already taken over the Ministry!"

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TBC


End file.
